


Trimuviratus

by MelikaElena



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (but i do tell you how it would’ve ended so there’s that), F/M, M/M, Mostly Finished, Season 3 AU, UNFINISHED & DISCONTINUED IM SORRY, it’s like a dozen chapters and then an outline of the remaining story, re-post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21740773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelikaElena/pseuds/MelikaElena
Summary: The Grounders believe that there are not one, but three people who were responsible for the deaths at Mt. Weather: Wanheda becomes Wanhedae.In which Clarke shares the burden of being known as Commanders of Death with Bellamy and Monty.Season 3 AU.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Monty Green/Nathan Miller
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posting this because even after all this time, despite it being unfinished, I'm still proud of it! Consists of thirteen and a half chapters and then an outline saying how I would've ended it. Read on if that's your cup of tea, or whatever.

There was a Grounder at the perimeter of Arkadia’s grounds-- not the tall gates, but the outskirts of the meadow, edging into the forest. From afar, no one recognized her, so it was Octavia and David Miller, the former of whom was tending to her horse and the latter of whom was on duty, who were left to approach her. 

Octavia couldn’t make out the face, as it was downcast and hidden by shadows, but it was evident that there was something wrong with this Grounder. Their body language was tense, edgy, akin to a caged animal. They would take a couple steps forward and stop, as though unable to come any closer. Octavia kept her hand on the knife in her belt, just in case, and she knew that David saw what she saw; his fingers tightened on his gun. 

They were only a few yards away when the face came up, framed by long, tangled, dyed red hair. 

Octavia stopped. “Clarke,” she snarled, unsheathing the knife, even though she knew full well she wasn’t going to use it. 

David stopped. “ _ Clarke _ ?” He asked incredulously. 

For a moment, Octavia saw fear in Clarke’s eyes, a vulnerability that transported her back to the early days of the Dropship, when she was desperately trying to save a wounded Jasper, fighting against her brother ( _ Bellamy _ , Octavia thought with a sharp pang,) mourning for someone new every day it seemed, whether it was Wells or Charlotte or Atom or perhaps their innocence-- and then the fear washed away, and the rounded face hardened into steely resolve. 

“Octavia,” Clarke said evenly in that scratchy voice of hers, nodding. “David.” 

“What are  _ you  _ doing here?” Octavia grunted, and Clarke was reminded of a black wildcat, back arched and ready to fight. 

“I’m here to warn you,” Clarke said, meeting her eyes, no matter how painful the gesture. “Arkadia isn’t safe.” 

“From who?” David stepped forward. 

Clarke turned to him, her jaw tight. “From everyone,” she said. 

* * *

_ One Month Earlier  _

She was at a trading post when she first heard the whispers. 

Perhaps it was dangerous to go near others, but Clarke had no choice, not if she wanted to stay alive. She couldn’t afford to be completely self-sufficient, and no one in the trading posts looked twice at the girl with dark red hair and peeling, sunburnt skin, not when they knew her as a fair blonde. 

She was learning about furs, too, how to skin them properly, how much they were worth, and she couldn’t help the stray thoughts in her head that once she went back she could teach them to the others, help them keep warm in the winter--

Clarke didn’t know what was worse: the thought of going back, of facing everyone, or the thought of never seeing them again. 

“Melinoe,” the mistress of the trading post, Irina, a small, stout woman, called Clarke over by the name Clarke gave out if asked. “Come here.” 

Clarke, tightening her fingers on the supplies she held, walked over, suspiciously eyeing the two burly men who stood with Irina. 

“Have you seen these three?” One of them men asked, pointing down at some sketches on faded paper, and Clarke froze. 

In a row were three faces: hers, Monty’s, and Bellamy’s. 

“They look familiar,” Clarke said vaguely, feeling like her entire body was paralyzed, and then, realizing that perhaps her original answer wasn’t enough, “Um, perhaps I saw them at… the mountain. Skaikru.” 

The other man rolled his eyes. “Of course you did,” he snapped. “But have you seen them since?” 

Clarke shook her head, and tried not to sound too interested as she asked, “What do you want with them?” 

“You haven’t heard?” The taller one, with a trimmed beard, asked. “The mountain fell because of these three-- they orchestrated the entire massacre.”

“Three hundred lives lost,” the other, short with four fingers on his right hand, chimed in. “Between them, they have the power of 300 people.” 

“And you know what that means: whichever clan captures these commanders of death will get their power,” and they both grinned at the thought, as though Clarke and the boys were nothing but a juicy venison dinner-- and then she understood.  _ They were being hunted.  _

Only later, through subtle questioning, did Clarke understand the ritual and thought behind capturing and killing the three of them: whichever clan did so would presumably be the strongest clan. The only consolation was that the tribes could not kill just one of them: they had to have all three and kill them at the same time for the ritual to be absolute. 

It was sick. It was disgusting. And it terrified Clarke more than anything else she encountered on Earth. 

“We’ve been watching the comings and goings of the Skaikru,” Four Fingers was saying, “and we haven’t seen the two boys in a while. Sometimes they leave their camp--  _ Arkadia _ \-- and go on expeditions, but our partners don’t know at this time if they’re inside the walls of the camp or out. And the girl no one has seen in two months.” 

“I heard the girl did it,” Clarke interrupted roughly, her skin crawling at the idea of Grounders eagerly awaiting Monty and Bellamy venturing outside of camp so that they could kill them. “By herself. At the mountain. The mountain fell only because of her.” 

The two men looked doubtfully at her. “That’s not what we’ve heard,” Beard said. “The girl organized things from outside the mountain with  _ heda _ , and the boys infiltrated the mountain from within.”

“The kill order came from the three of them,” Four Fingers continued. “They’re all as valuable as the other.” He eyed her suspiciously. “Are you trying to get us off their tail because your clan already has the girl?” 

“I just found out about this,” Clarke snapped, her fear giving way to anger. “My clan and I don’t have anyone!” Technically, her  _ clan _ had two out of the three, but-- semantics. 

They eyed her again in suspicion until Irina called them away again, and Clarke willed her body not to sag in relief. Once the men were gone, Irina came to her, eyes kind, wrinkling at the corners. “You should go back,” she said quietly. “Warn them.” Clarke didn’t ask how Irina knew who she really was, but it gave her pause; she would need to up her disguise somehow if she was to survive.

Clarke swallowed.  _ She wasn’t ready. _ Even  _ thinking _ about going back made her heart pound, her throat dry, and her palms sweaty. But what was the alternative? Letting them die? Letting the entire camp die if the Grounders got impatient and decided to slaughter them all, just to get to Monty and Bellamy? 

“I’ll try and deter these rumors first,” she said out loud, more for herself than Irina’s benefit. “If that doesn’t work… I’ll go back.” 

Peace was so tentative right now that Clarke didn’t want-- what had that man called Camp Jaha?  _ Arkadia _ ?-- to get up in arms if she could prevent it. 

In the weeks that followed, Clarke canvassed the area, frequenting the trading posts of the different clans, sans Lexa’s, as often as she could, trying to downplay or dispel the rumors, trying to change them, to pin all the blame (or credit) for Mt. Weather on herself, on Clarke Griffin, but to no avail. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t change Wanhedae-- Commanders of Death, was their nickname-- to simply Wanheda, singular, one Commander of Death. 

She couldn’t deny it any longer; she had to go back. If only she knew then that she had already run out of time. 

* * *

_ Present Day  _

“They’re  _ fine _ ,” Raven said flatly, her arms crossed as she assessed Clarke, taking in her Grounders clothing and hair. For her part, Clarke could barely stand to look at the openly wary expression on Raven’s face. “We knew this expedition might be long, that’s why I didn’t go. But they’ve checked in every three days like clockwork via the radio.”

“The radio has that far of a range?” Clarke asked, surprised. 

Raven shrugged. “It wasn’t difficult.” 

“When they get back,” Abby said briskly, unable to tear her eyes away from her daughter, “we’ll make sure that there’s a plan in place for their safety.” 

“What if that’s not good enough?” Clarke demanded. “We have to think on a larger scale here.” 

Abby, Marcus, Clarke, Raven, Octavia, and David were sequestered in a small room, a sort of makeshift office for Abby and Marcus. Octavia had insisted Clarke cover her hair when coming into camp and to hide her face before they knew what exactly was going on. Clarke knew what it was-- Octavia didn’t think people should know she was back until it was confirmed that she would stay. Fair enough. 

Abby sighed. “Clarke, I agree with you, but what else can we do?” 

Clarke knew what she would do if it was just her at risk-- leave. Not just the camp, but the area. Go west, run as far away as possible so that the people she loved would be safe. 

But she couldn’t very well demand that Monty and Bellamy run with her. They had lives here at camp; Bellamy, it seemed, had become Marcus’s right hand man, and she couldn’t ask Monty to leave Jasper or anyone else. 

Of course,  _ she  _ could just run-- the Grounders could never complete the ceremony without her. But Clarke was worried that perhaps they would grow impatient and decide that having the strength of 200 people was better than none. Either way, she refused to take the chance. 

“Perhaps we should wait until they get back and ask them,” Marcus interjected. “And don’t worry, Clarke, when they checked in yesterday they were nearly back home.” 

Clarke let out a sharp breath. “That’s what I’m worried about,” she said. “There are Grounders  _ watching _ the camp for them, Marcus. Do you know what direction they’re coming from? Maybe we should send a few people to meet them, just in case.” 

“I’ll do it,” Octavia said, nodding at Clarke. It was clear that she wasn’t going to be forgiven by the other girl any time soon, but she did agree with her rationale. 

“I’ll go as well,” David said. “Nathan is with them, and I don’t like the idea of them being blindsided by these… vultures.” 

Clarke winced a little at the term, but couldn’t deny its accuracy. They  _ were _ being hunted, after all. They were prey and the Grounders were definitely predators. 

Abby eyed them. “All right,” she said, “but keep it quiet. We don’t want people to worry for noth--”

The radio crackled to life. “Raven, Raven,” Miller’s voice, frantic. “Come in.” 

“Miller?” Raven responded immediately. “What’s going on?” 

“We’ve been attacked,” Miller said, and out of the corner of her eye Clarke could see David stand up abruptly. “About a mile, southwest of camp. Everyone’s-- we’re okay _ , _ but the jeep’s in bad shape; we need help.” 

Clarke and Octavia locked eyes. Abby threw them a pack. “Here,” she said. “Basic supplies, ready just in case. They should have some on them as well. David and I’ll follow along with more, but-- get them here.” 

“Are there--” Raven could barely say it. “Is the enemy still there?” 

“No,” Miller said, “but they might come back. And Raven--” 

Octavia and Clarke were gone before they heard what he had to say, Octavia racing for her horse. Clarke looked at it warily as Octavia swung on. 

“Helios won’t bite,” Octavia smirked down on her. “Just get on, Griffin.” 

Clarke sighed and got on and then they were off, the medical pack bouncing on Clarke’s hip, digging into each time, an unnecessary reminder of the potential carnage they might encounter.

They followed the smoke, presumably from the battered jeep, and it wasn’t long before they saw it. Miller was standing guard, lip bloodied, gun cocked in their direction. He put it down when he saw him, his eyes growing wide at Clarke. 

“Who else is with you?” Clarke asked. 

“Monty, Jasper, Gina.” Miller swallowed. “Bellamy.” 

Octavia grabbed the bag from Clarke’s hands and took off for the jeep, where she could hear Jasper’s moans. 

Clarke stayed where she was, fixated on Miller’s expression. “What happened?” She asked lowly. 

“We were ambushed,” Miller said. “They set a trap for us, for the jeep.” 

“Who? How many?” 

“There were only two of them, but they clearly were waiting for us. Grounders. Huge.” 

“Did… was there one with a beard,” Clarke croaked, “and… another with only four fingers on his right hand?” 

Miller nodded slowly. “You know ‘em?” 

“I’ve encountered them,” Clarke said. “Miller--”

“They tried to take Monty,” Miller said abruptly, and Clarke noticed his hands tremble, once, on his gun. “They weren’t out to kill us, I don’t think. Just incapacitate. They knocked out Gina and Jasper, and tried to do the same to me, but I fought them off.”

Clarke closed her eyes, waiting for the blow. “And Bellamy?” 

Miller didn’t say anything for a moment and they were silent, and then--

Octavia started screaming. 

Clarke opened her eyes and looked into Miller’s: they were wet. “I’m sorry, Clarke,” Miller said, breath hitching. “They took him.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Lincoln blocked the door; this was intentional. It meant that Octavia couldn’t leave until they had a plan. 

“Let me out,” she snarled at him, her back decidedly turned against Abby, Kane, and Clarke. “Let me go get my brother before it’s too late.” 

“They can’t kill Bellamy until they have Clarke and Monty,” Lincoln explained patiently, but his face was tight with pain and apology as he looked at Octavia’s desperate face. 

“We don’t even know which Clan took him,” Kane said. “Octavia, we have no idea where they could be taking him.”

“Then let me track him!” Octavia whirled around, her eye make-up smeared and her eyes wild. “We’re wasting time here.” 

If it weren’t for the fact that they needed Octavia to help get their friends back to Arkadia, she would’ve torn off for Bellamy in an instant, Clarke knows that much. She doesn’t blame her. Her arms are crossed tightly and have been so that no one can see the way her hands shake with fear, with rage. 

“Clarke, could you sketch the men?” Abby asked abruptly. “Maybe Lincoln can recognize them if you did.” 

Clarke uncrossed her arms, her fists clenching. They were still shaking. “I can try,” she said. “I--” She looked at Octavia’s face. “I will.” 

Octavia heaved a breath. “We’re still wasting time,” she said. “He’s--”

“Your brother is strong, Octavia,” Kane said quietly. “One of the strongest people I’ve ever known. And I know he’s doing everything he can to come back to you, too.” 

Octavia nodded. “I’m going to-- get supplies together.” 

Abby and Lincoln locked eyes; he stepped aside and followed after the distraught girl. 

Clarke sat down at her mother’s desk, finding a half-torn piece of paper and some charcoal and getting straight to work. She ignored the feeling of Abby and Kane’s eyes on her back and the look they undoubtedly exchanged before she heard the door opening and closing. 

“Clarke…” her mother started. 

“Yes, Mom?” Clarke parroted dutifully, fingers, now steadied, flying across the page. 

Abby sighed and Clarke’s fingers tightened. Whatever her mother wanted to discuss could wait. 

“I…” How many elephants were in the room between them now? It was hard to count. But elephant wasn’t even the right word-- they were ghosts. Ghosts in this room, ghosts following Clarke, everywhere she went. 

Clarke paused and turned. “We can talk when I get back,” she said abruptly. “About whatever it is you’re trying to figure out how to say. When Bellamy is back--”

“You’re coming back?” Abby asked quietly, swallowing, trying not to look too hopeful.

Perhaps that expression, instead of the domineering determination Clarke expected, broke Clarke’s heart. “Yes, Mom,” she said, just as softly, “I’m going to come back. I’ll-- do whatever I can to make sure I do.” She couldn’t promise her return, nothing except death was certain here on Earth. But she could try. 

There had been some talk of Clarke staying in camp as well, but that was shot down quickly by Clarke. Going with Octavia after Bellamy was reckless, irresponsible, but-- it was  _ Bellamy _ . Everyone knew Clarke would go after him, with or without their permission. 

Abby gave her a watery, grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll… I’ll let you draw in peace.” 

Clarke nodded. “Thanks, Mom,” she said.

Abby passed her and laid a hand, tentatively on Clarke’s shoulder. “Clarke,” she said, “I love you. No matter what you do, no matter who or what you think you are, I will always love you.” 

Clarke’s breath hitched, a sob stuck in her throat. “I love you, too,” she whispered. 

It took Clarke a few minutes to compose herself after Abby left, to push down the tears. After all, it wouldn’t do to get the sketches of Bellamy’s kidnappers damp and water-splotched. 

* * *

“Ice Nation,” Lincoln said grimly. “They’re from the Ice Nation.” 

“How can you tell?” Kane asked. 

“These marks on their faces,” Lincoln said, pointing to the raised, white skin on their temples. “Only the Azgeda has them.” 

“Well, shit,” Raven said, peering at the sketches with both disgust and fascination on her face. “At least it’ll be easy to spot them.” 

“Great,” Octavia said briskly. “Let’s go. You know the way to the Ice Nation?” 

“I do,” Lincoln said. “But you know I can’t leave, Octavia.” 

“Right, the Commander and her kill order,” Octavia sneered, her eyes darting to Clarke, whose face remained stoic. “Then tell me and I’ll go myself.” 

“Hold on, Octavia,” Kane said. “We need a plan. We can’t have peace be--”

“What?” Octavia shouted. “Be  _ broken _ ? They broke it first by kidnapping Bellamy, and trying to kidnap Monty! Hell, if they had their way, they’d kidnap all three of them and kill them without batting an eye!” 

“Octavia’s right,” Clarke said. “I don’t think we need to go in there, guns blazing, exactly-- it’s better to sneak them out-- but we also can’t pretend that this peace is holding.” She nodded at Octavia. “Lincoln can’t come but I know the Ice Nation territory. We’ll be fine.” 

Octavia’s face twisted in annoyance before smoothing away. This wasn’t about them; it was about Bellamy. “Fine,” she said. “But on one condition.” 

* * *

“Are you happy now?” Clarke asked the next morning, so early that the sun was still rising, and the expression on her face was so grumpy that Octavia almost smiled. Combined with her freshly washed, cut blonde hair, the two sections braided away from her face, she looked like the Clarke from four months ago. 

“I couldn’t give two shits about what you looked like,” Octavia said instead, “but those berries made you smell rank. You would’ve attracted every animal within a half-mile’s radius.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “That was the  _ point _ ,” she said. “Well, partially. I wanted the animals to come so I could hunt them.” 

“So is that how you survived?” Octavia asked, sharpening her knives. 

“I’d eat the meat, skin the animal, go to trading posts to get more supplies,” Clarke said shortly, focused on packing a small bag of medical supplies. Who knew what shape they’d find Bellamy in. 

“That sounds…” Octavia trailed off and when it was clear she wasn’t going to say anymore, Clarke looked up at her. She looked… wistful, and Clarke was reminded of the girl who would sneak out of camp to find glowing butterflies. 

“That sounds what?” 

“Never mind,” Octavia said brusquely, standing up. “You ready?” 

Clarke nodded. “I just need to get the radio from Raven,” she said. “She’s in medical with the others, so we can get it from her and go.” 

All three of them-- Jasper, Monty, and Gina-- were conscious, and Raven was visiting. Clarke nodded at her and Raven nodded back. Clarke looked down, feeling almost shy.  _ I’d pick you first,  _ she remembered saying, but it wasn't that simple, now: Clarke picked herself before anyone when she left. 

“What are you going to do when Bellamy’s back?” Raven asked. “Leave again?” 

Clarke swallowed. “No,” she said. “I think I'm gonna stick around.” 

“For how long?” Raven asked, mouth in a tense line. 

“For good,” Clarke said hoarsely. 

Raven stared at her for a long time, and then handed over the radio. “You better be sure,” is all she said. 

Clarke nodded as she took it. She knew she and Octavia needed to leave right away, but-- she couldn’t help it. She wanted to see Jasper and Monty before she did. She owed them that much. 

Jasper was resolutely facing away from all of them, and Clarke wasn’t sure if he was asleep or just faking it, but Monty smiled when he saw her. “Your hair,” he said. 

“Octavia wouldn’t go out in public with me with red hair,” Clarke said, with a hint of a smile herself. The action felt foreign. “Risk or no risk.” It was stupid, but Clarke would keep her hood up, and to be honest, she  _ did  _ hate the hair. 

Octavia rolled her eyes. “You should all be thanking me,” she said.

“Agreed,” Raven said. “That hair was fucking tragic.” 

“It was a good idea at the time,” Clarke protested, but she turned back to Monty, taking his hand. He squeezed it and she, with a smile, squeezed back. “How are you feeling?” She asked. 

He definitely was the worst off out of all of them-- there was a nasty bruise on one side of his head, a cut on his cheek that Abby had neatly sewed, and a split lip. He had fought back admirably, and Clarke’s heart swelled at the sight of him again. She  _ had _ missed Monty. 

“A bit shaken up,” Monty admitted. “Your mom says I have a concussion. I heard that-- can you believe it?” He let out a breath, almost a laugh, incredulous. “The Grounders really think that  _ I  _ have the power of a hundred people? If that were true, then I wouldn’t have needed Miller to fight off those guys for me.” 

“You look like you did a good job on your own,” Clarke said. 

“Pretty sure Miller would fight off about a hundred guys for you,” Raven muttered with a smirk. 

Monty flushed. 

“I’m sure he would, too,” Clarke said in a placating voice, “but hopefully he won’t have to. Stay indoors if you can, ok, Monty? I just-- it’s dangerous, out in the open. Even at camp.” 

Monty sighed. “I don’t like it,” he said, “but I don’t really want to be kidnapped either.” He winced guiltily, thinking of Bellamy. 

“We don’t want you kidnapped either,” came a voice on Monty’s other side. 

Clarke turned to face the voice, forgetting she was there. “Hey,” she said. “Gina, right? How are you feeling?” 

“Yeah. Hey, Clarke,” Gina nodded. “I remember you from the Ark-- you helped your mom patch me up one time after I cut my hand on glass.” 

Clarke winced. “If only our scrapes were limited to just those,” she said, her eyes lingering on Gina’s bruised face. 

“I’m fine,” Gina told her, “just go get my stupid boyfriend back, okay?” 

Clarke blinked. “Bellamy’s your boyfriend?” 

“Yeah,” Gina smiled, but then she looked down at her hands. “Too heroic for his own good, but yeah. He’s mine.” 

Clarke nodded seriously, another stab of unease-- someone else was counting on her, too. “We’ll get him back,” she promised. She turned to Octavia. “Let’s go.” 

On their way out, Clarke ran into Miller. “Hey,” she said lowly. “Your dad’s filled you in on everything, right?” 

Miller nodded. 

“I’m assuming now that they have Bellamy they’ll be more ruthless than ever trying to find Monty and me,” she said, “so I need you to keep Monty safe. If at all possible, don’t even-- even going between the buildings, anywhere where they can spot him, is dangerous. You’re the only…” 

_ You should keep Miller close. The others listen to him. They trust him. _

“I trust you to keep him safe, okay?” 

Miller nodded. “I will,” he said. “I was already planning on doing it, anyway.” 

“Thanks, Miller,” Clarke said. 

“Be careful, Clarke,” Miller warned. “I think… I think Bellamy gave himself up, you know? I think he knew that if those guys didn’t get what they wanted, they would kill us all. They were relentless.” 

“They haven’t met Octavia yet,” Clarke said, as if that explained everything.  _ And officially, they haven’t met me.  _

But Miller nodded. He understood. Relentless would take on a new meaning when it came to Octavia and Clarke getting Bellamy back. 


	3. Chapter 3

They left Arkadia as the sun rose and by the time it was setting, they had found Bellamy’s captors. 

Octavia let out a long breath when she saw them. “He did it,” she said, gazing down at the two motionless bodies. “He escaped.” 

Clarke edged closer to the men. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she said. 

“What are you talking about?” Octavia demanded. 

Clarke scanned the area. “I’m assuming they tied him up, but there’s no rope anywhere. And why, if Bellamy escaped, would he leave his gun behind?” She picked it up-- it was partially hidden under one of the men. 

“Maybe he forgot or didn’t need it,” Octavia said, but her eyes were already darting around, looking for him. “It could be empty.”

“He would still never leave it behind,” Clarke said, opening it and checking. “There’s still bullets in here.” 

“Bellamy!” Octavia yelled, “ _ Bellamy _ !” 

Clarke caught her arm, roughly. “Shut up,” she hissed. “Do you want every Grounder around to know where we are?” 

“No,” Octavia said coldly, yanking her arm away. “Just Bellamy.” But she didn’t yell anymore. 

“We need to track them,” Clarke said urgently. “These bodies-- they couldn’t have been dead for more than a couple hours. There’s still time.” 

Octavia nodded, a muscle in her jaw jumping from the force of her clenched teeth. 

The two were eventually able to locate a trail, signs of a struggle evident. Interestingly, the signs didn’t lead towards Ice Nation, where the other two were clearly going, but somewhere else. 

“Polis,” breathed Octavia at the first signs of the high tower. She went to Clarke, who was eyeing the tower with an inscrutable look on her face, and yanked on her hood. “Leave this on.” 

Clarke pulled up the hood, wishing it had drawstrings to tighten. “So what’s the plan?” She asked. “We can’t just waltz right in, can we?” 

“You’re asking me?” Octavia raised her eyebrows. “I thought you always had a plan.” 

“Well, I--” Clarke stopped. She heard a rustle and froze, Octavia doing the same. Clarke and Octavia slowly reached for their weapons, but the other person still had the advantage, charging out from behind them, and Octavia barely had enough time to bring her weapon out to defend against him. 

Clarke charged at him with her knife so he was forced to defend against them both, but the tall, brawny Grounder was quick, an experienced warrior, and he landed a few good blows to them both before they gritted their teeth, and went on the offense in a flurry.

It ended with the Grounder flat on his back, Octavia crouched over him, her blade at his neck. “Who are you?” She snarled. 

He sneered at her and didn’t say anything. 

Clarke came into his view and his eyes flickered to her. “He’s Ice Nation,” she said, looking at his face and the scars there, covered under paint that matched his skin tone, but the raised skin was hard to miss, especially close-up. 

“Ah, one of the Wanehedae,” he rasped. 

Clarke and Octavia both tensed. “You took Bellamy,” Clarke said. It was just a guess, but by the way he smirked she knew she hit the mark. 

“Where is my brother,” Octavia demanded, her blade digging into his neck just enough that blood trickled. 

“With the one who employed me,” the stranger said. 

“Who employed you?” Clarke said. “Your queen?” 

Something flickered across his face-- too fast for Clarke to register. “No,” he said. “Heda.” He spat her name out like a curse. 

Octavia and Clarke both wore matching looks of disgust. “Lexa,” Octavia cursed. “I’ll kill her!” 

“Is he safe?” Clarke asked. 

“For now,” the man said. He looked at her. “She wants you, too. And the other one.” 

“To kill us?” 

“To protect you,” he said. “From my mother.” 

“Your mother?” Octavia asked. 

“The Queen of Azgeda,” the man said coolly. “Of all the clans, she hungers for your blood the most.” 

“So that would make you the prince,” Clarke said, and Octavia tightened her grip on her knife. 

“Yes.” 

Clarke studied him. “What’s your name?” 

This answer, of all things, took a moment. “Roan,” he said, finally. 

“Roan,” Clarke said. “Can you get us an audience with Lexa without anyone else seeing us?” 

“What?” Octavia yelled at her, but she kept her gaze and knife steady on Roan. “Are you crazy? She could kill you! This could all be a lie.” 

“It could be,” Clarke agreed, “but if Lexa has Bellamy then that’s where we need to go.” 

“And if we could off her in the process, everyone wins,” muttered Octavia. 

Clarke couldn’t disagree, even if her stomach rolled at the idea of killing again. 

“Ah, yes,” Roan smirked. “I’d nearly forgotten how much the Sky People hate Heda for her betrayal.” 

“Yeah,” Clarke narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you working for Lexa? I thought Trikru and Azgeda hated each other.” 

“They do,” Roan said, “but Lexa and I struck a deal… if I brought her you three,” he looked at Clarke, “especially  _ you _ , she would lift my banishment.”

“Why were you banished?” Octavia said.

“None of your business,” sneered Roan. 

Clarke thought for a moment. “Did Lexa say how she wanted you to bring us?” She said. “If she truly wanted us under her protection, she could’ve had you come to Arkadia and explain… but I doubt you explained anything to Bellamy when you killed those men, did you?” 

“She said by any means necessary,” Roan said. “And she told me it was likely that none of you would understand, so that as long as you weren’t harmed, I could use force.” 

Octavia’s lip curled in disgust. 

“Well, then,” Clarke said grimly. “Glad to know nothing’s changed with her.” 

“She’s the same despicable witch,” Roan agreed. 

“You’re the one who struck a bargain with her,” retorted Octavia.

“As did you, Skaikru,” shot back Roan.

“Yeah, and look where it got us,” Octavia taunted. “How are you so sure she’ll uphold your bargain?” 

Roan was silent and Clarke saw the unease on his face. Part of her wanted to help him, to include him in the plan, but she remembered Lexa’s warning about the viciousness of the Ice People, the beheading of Costia. Perhaps Lexa did something to warrant it, Clarke realized, but she would still rather err on the side of caution when it came to the Grounders. After all, as the saying went, fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice… “I don’t have a choice,” Roan finally said. “It’s this or imprisonment.” 

Octavia snorted. “Suit yourself,” she said, “but I have a feeling you’d be imprisoned either way.” 

“But you can get us in with Lexa,” Clarke interjected, before the conversation could be derailed further. “Do you know where she’s keeping Bellamy?” 

Roan shrugged. “No, I dropped him off and left,” he said. “But I can get you in with her.”

“We have a deal, then?”

“What do I get out of it?”

“Getting into the further good graces of the Heda,” Clarke said in a bored tone. “But,” she leaned close to his face. “Don’t you fucking  _ dare _ go near Arkadia and try and get Monty.”

“Who’s going to stop me?” snarled Roan. 

Clarke pulled out the walkie talkie and turned it on. “Raven?” She asked. 

“Here,” Raven’s voice crackled through.

“Who’s that?” Roan demanded. 

“Clarke?” Raven asked again. “I hear someone. Is that Bellamy?”

“No,” Clarke responded, “it’s the person who took him.” She explained the situation briefly. “So he’s going to get us in, but Lexa will probably let him go.” She described Roan’s appearance, taking special care to emphasize any defining features, “So if you see him, tell the Guards to tranq him or shoot at non-fatal areas. We don’t need a war on our hands with the Ice Nation, banished prince or not, but we certainly don’t need him well enough to take Monty. And tell Miller not to let up on Monty at all, especially since Bellamy and I will be in the same place. Clear?” 

“Crystal,” Raven said, and Clarke could hear the smirk in her voice. “And I wouldn’t worry about Miller and Monty; pretty sure that boy would follow Monty to the ends of the earth if Monty asked him to.” 

“I don’t like her,” Roan said. “She sounds smug.” 

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t like you either, Iceman,” Raven shot back. “Jesus  _ fuck _ , Clarke, is this whole planet populated with idiots?” 

Roan snarled, head lifting before Octavia smacked him back down. “You better hope I don’t get to Arkadia, because if I do--”

Clarke should’ve hung up the walkie-talkie, she knew she should’ve, but she figured, in the brief moments that she saw her, that Raven needed to let out some aggression, and if she couldn’t do it physically, why not let her unleash her ire on a stranger? 

“Listen,  _ Snowflake _ ,” Raven snapped, “if you manage to haul your frozen ass to Arkadia, I will burn you to the ground, do you understand me? I’m the youngest zero-g mechanic in half a century, which I know means nothing to you, but that means I’m really fucking smart. I built a rocket and crashed it into the earth, torn down bridges, survived a bullet to my  _ spine _ , and helped take down a fucking  _ mountain _ . I _ ’m _ not scared of  _ you; you  _ should be scared of  _ me _ .” 

Everyone was silent for a moment. Octavia and Clarke smirked proudly, while Roan looked thoughtful. 

“Nothing to say, Snow Drop?” Raven mocked. 

“She would fit in very well with Azgeda,” Roan said finally, sounding impressed. 

That, obviously, enraged his opponent. “Why  _ you- _ -”

“Thanks, Raven!” Clarke interrupted, sensing that the exercise had run its course. “We’ll keep you posted on everything!” And she turned the radio off before Raven could reply. 

After stripping him of his weapons, Clarke and Octavia let up on Roan and let him get to his feet. “Well, that went well,” Octavia drawled, her knife out, eyes still on Roan warily. 

“I enjoyed myself,” Roan smirked. “Shall we?” 

Clarked pulled up her hood again, and this time, Octavia did as well. Surprise was their only advantage now, and Clarke could barely hear anything over the beating of her heart as she drew closer to the imposing tower in the distance… and who was inside it.


	4. Chapter 4

Monty understood, just a little bit, what Raven was going through when Abby told him that he was not, under any circumstances, to go back to work. 

“Your head took quite a blow,” she said, cleaning the cut on his cheek. Monty winced. “More than one blow.” 

“I just…” Monty looked down at his hands. “I can’t just do  _ nothing _ .” 

“Here,” came the voice of Gina, handing him a book.  _ Circe. _ “I was going to give it to Bellamy, but, well…” her lips quirked, but her eyes were sad. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you previewed it for him. That way you two can talk about it when he comes back; I’m sure as hell not going to read it.” 

“Thanks, Gina,” Monty smiled, taking the book. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted-- to be useful, to be busy, to stop worrying about Bellamy and Clarke and Octavia-- but it was a distraction, which was the main thing. 

Monty didn’t know much about Ancient History, from any country or continent, let alone Greece and Rome, but he found himself identifying with the protagonist, Circe, in her quest to find a place she belonged, to build a home of her own. Monty didn’t know the last time he felt at home-- the Ark was home, but once he was locked up it felt like a betrayal. The Dropship was something new, exciting, reminding Monty of the sleepaway camps that kids on Earth had hundreds of years before, and it had just started to feel like home when he was taken by the Mountain Men, and well-- that was never going to be home.

He’d been in Arkadia for three months now, and it felt just like the Ark did; cold, quiet. Jasper was a shell of a person; Clarke was gone; Raven was tired and Octavia was skittish; Bellamy was doing his best to make it feel like home, to be the voice of the remaining 100, but it was hard. None of them really belonged here, no matter how desperately they wanted to. The protection of the adults that they might have longed for in the beginning of their time on Earth was gone, and besides: they hadn’t been kids for a long time, no matter their ages. 

He was the only one left in the hospital wing; Jasper and Gina had been cleared earlier that day, and Abby wanted to monitor him overnight before releasing him back to his own quarters. More quiet, more stale silence; the book provided a distraction for a bit, but he was lost in his own thoughts, mindlessly zoning out with the book still open in front of him.

“Staring at a book that hard isn’t going to turn it into a movie,” drawled a familiar voice, and Monty’s head came up. 

Leaning against the door in his guard uniform and his usual smirk was Nathan Miller, Monty’s personal bodyguard for a while, it would seem. 

“You don’t need to check on me all the time,” Monty said, feeling a little annoyed. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it?” Miller entered, unperturbed by Monty’s attitude. “You, not going anywhere, particularly with anyone who might want to kill you.” 

Monty leaned back in his bed. “I just feel so helpless.” 

Miller, seeing how morose Monty looked, took the seat next to Monty’s bed, his expression more sober. “Me, too,” he admitted. 

Monty looked at him. “Yeah?” 

“Of course,” Miller said. “I just-- even when it was happening. I couldn’t protect you from getting hurt, and from Bellamy being taken, and I have no idea how Clarke and Octavia are doing. It sucks; I hate it.” He let out a long breath. “You and I are pretty similar that way, I guess. We don’t like not doing anything.”

Monty smiled, remembering their time in Mt. Weather. “Yeah, we are,” he said. 

“That’s why…” Miller hesitated. “I’m sorry if you think I’m overbearing, and honestly, I’ll probably continue to be. Clarke told me to protect you, and, well, I would’ve done it anyway, but keeping you safe makes me feel better. I can do this _ one thing,  _ you know?” 

“Not that I like being referred to as a ‘thing,’” Monty said lightly, “but yeah, I know what you mean.” 

“And I’ll see if Abby will give you some work to do,” Miller said with a slight smile. “After all, I’ll be with you, so I’ll be able to tell if it’s too much for you.” 

Monty smiled widely. “That would be great,” he said. “Thanks, Nate.” 

“Of course,” Miller said, clearing his throat. “So, uh, what are you reading?” 

Monty held up the book and, to his surprise, Miller brightened. “ _Circe?_ ”

Monty blinked. “You’ve read it? I didn’t realize you were a big history nerd like Bellamy.” 

“I’m not,” Miller said, taking the book gently and looking it over. “But I'm a huge nerd for Madeline Miller . You ever read _Song of Achilles?_ ” 

“No, I haven't." Monty said, intrigued. "Is it your favorite?" 

“Yeah,” Miller said, his cheeks a little flushed. “English and History were my best subjects. I'm also a huge poetry nerd, so the epic poetry of ancient Greek works particularly intrigued me. Madeline Miller wrote prose, but it's as beautiful as poetry .”

“Do you want to borrow this?” Monty offered. “You’ll probably appreciate it more than I would.” 

“Nah,” Miller said with a grin, “you should read it. We can talk about it while I follow you around everywhere.” 

“Sounds great,” Monty said sarcastically, but his heart rate, speeding up at the sight of Miller’s smile, told him just how much he meant that statement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Monty originally was reading was THE AENEID but since I wrote this and now, I've read Madeline Miller and holy FUCK. Also, how could I resist having my boys talk about SONG OF ACHILLES, aka the the Gayest of the Greeks???? I simply could not!!


	5. Chapter 5

Clarke and Octavia wouldn’t let him have any of his weapons, but they did need to make it look like Roan brought them in, as Lexa probably wouldn’t believe they came willingly, so Clarke and Octavia walked in front of him once they entered Polis, their hands clasped behind their backs (Roan wanted to tie them-- loosely, he insisted-- with rope, but neither Clarke nor Octavia were willing to take that risk. They would rather lose some authenticity than restrict themselves in front of him.) 

Clarke looked around as surreptitiously as she could in the dark, dank building as the ascended the stairs. She tried to remember from her History classes about these buildings-- skyscrapers, they had been called. It’s possible that it was once an office or an apartment building, but Clarke doubted many people lived here. The gutted building was probably sacred in some way. 

Roan didn’t speak to anyone and no one spoke to him, so it was easy to keep her hood on and gaze bowed for the most part. No one seemed to know, care, or realize that one third of the mighty Wanhedae was walking by them. 

When they finally reached the top, they stopped in front of two imposing doors. Roan went to speak with the guards, one of whom disappeared inside. Clarke’s hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palm. Lexa was in there, and maybe Bellamy, too. She glanced at Octavia, who was already looking back at her, fire burning in her eyes. Octavia would keep her strong, Clarke knew, would give her the anger and energy she needed to face Lexa, although Clarke had enough of that on her own. 

_ I don’t know if love is truly a weakness or not, _ Clarke thought,  _ but trusting you, letting you in, was weak of me. It was a mistake.  _ And not one she planned on making again. 

The doors open and Roan pushed ahead in front of them. Standing, silhouette illuminated by the sun coming in through the large windows, was Lexa. 

Clarke tensed and could feel, Octavia beside her, do the same. 

Despite her hood still being on, Lexa’s eyes zeroed in on Clarke. 

She completely ignored Roan and seemed to not even see Octavia. “Clarke,” she said with some surprise, and her voice was softer than Clarke remembered. “You came.”  _ Willingly  _ was the word she didn’t say, but Clarke heard it anyway. 

Perhaps Lexa realized it as well, because she turned to Roan and said brusquely, “Good work. And the third?” 

Roan gave nothing away. “Still with the Skaikru.”

Lexa nodded. “You have your mission. Dismissed.” 

Roan’s eyes shot to Clarke and Octavia, but he said nothing and left. 

Lexa looked at Clarke again, wary, but with a warm, hopeful light in her eyes that made Clarke feel uneasy and, inexplicably, even angrier. “You did the right thing, coming with Roan,” Lexa said approvingly, with her usual touch of condescension. “I’m glad you understand.” 

Clarke summoned up the feelings she had long tried to bury during those weeks in the woods on her own, of how she felt in the moments she realized Lexa had betrayed her at Mt. Weather and her unflinching, unapologetic explanation for it. Broken, helpless, afraid, in the face of another betrayal. Granted, it was by someone who she wasn’t as close to, so it didn’t hurt like Wells’ supposed betrayal did, or like her mother’s real one did, but it was worse, in many ways, because the stakes were that much higher. It wasn’t just a matter of one death, her father’s death, but of her friends, her entire people. Lexa’s betrayal was more than just personal. 

Clarke Griffin had changed a lot in the months since she’d come to Earth, became someone harder and colder, yet with a capacity for resilience, adaptability, and, when it came to most people, the ability to forgive. But not today, and not with this person: for however much she had changed, Clarke could still hold one hell of a grudge, and the one she held against Lexa had the same shape and feel of a lever in a control room in an empty, hollowed Mt. Weather. 

“I understand perfectly,” Clarke said in a low, even voice, thrumming with barely controlled anger, the same voice she had used against Wells when she thought he had betrayed her, the same voice she used against her mother when she knew she had. “I  _ understand t _ hat you blackmailed a mercenary into  _ kidnapping  _ myself and my friends under the condescending guise that it was ‘for our own good’ as opposed to sending an invitation or an offer of safety and protection. I  _ understand _ that you expect me to trust you when you betrayed my people without hesitation at Mt. Weather. I  _ understand  _ that you have someone who I want, and that you’re going to hand him over to us. Right. Now.” 

Lexa’s kohl-lined eyes grew wide upon realizing Clarke’s anger, and then retracted, her face tightening in true understanding and frustration; as Clarke continued to speak, her mouth thinned and jaw clenched; but when she finished, Lexa’s eyes flickered again in surprise. “‘Us?’” She asked in a low, dangerous whisper. 

“Yeah,” Octavia stepped beside Clarke, pushing back her hood, her chin out proudly. “ _ Us. _ ” 

“You brought Octavia?” Lexa asked with a raised eyebrow, ignoring Octavia completely in an obvious insult. Octavia just smirked, recognizing the petulant gesture. 

“It does concern her brother, after all,” Clarke said flatly. “He’s why we came.” 

Lexa scoffed. “Of course,” she said, with just a touch of bitterness. 

“Let’s not pretend, Lexa,” Clarke said, annoyed at the other girl’s irritation, “that you didn’t know _ exactly  _ what you were doing when you tasked Roan with getting Bellamy and Monty first. You knew I’d look for them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lexa snapped, “I didn’t even know where you were.” 

“Perhaps not exactly,” Clarke said, “but you knew I was somewhere within the territories of the 12 Clans, clans that  _ you _ head. You had the resources to find me, and clearly you used them, as indicated by Roan. Tell me, are the kill orders against Monty, Bellamy, and I even real? Or did you send them out yourself, hoping I would hear about them, head back to Arkadia, and then get caught by Roan?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lexa said, clearly offended, “that kill order is real. If Azgeda had caught you all, they would’ve killed you without thought, as would any other Clan besides Trikru.” 

“And yet you wanted all three of us to be brought here, under one roof, at the Grounder capital, where all of the Clans converge, and you expected us to be  _ safe _ ?” Clarke demanded. “That makes absolutely no sense!”

Lexa scowled. “You would be under my protection,” she said coldly. “The other Clans wouldn’t dare…”

“Oh, would they?” Octavia spoke up, eyebrows raised. “Because from what I’ve heard, the truce is  _ very  _ fragile right now. Not all of the Clans agreed with the deal you made at Mt. Weather, and are questioning your leadership. You can’t guarantee their safety; you can barely guarantee your own!”

_ That  _ Clarke didn’t know; of course, it’s not like she engaged in much gossip at the trading posts beyond what concerned her people. 

“That’s enough,” snarled Lexa, and it was clear that Octavia hit a sore spot. “How dare you question my leadership?”

“Easily,” shot back Octavia, “considering I’m not under it!” 

Lexa’s lip curled and shifted her stance, poised for a fight. 

Clarke felt her chest tighten in anxiety and stress. After not being around people and society for so long, this overwrought confrontation was overwhelming. She just wanted to get Bellamy and leave. “Stop,” she said, to both of them. “Lexa, just let us have Bellamy.” 

Lexa’s shoulders heaved as she took a breath, angry and fired-up. “Fine,” she ground out, making eye-contact with a guard, who left, “but under one condition.” 

Octavia growled. “No conditions,” she said. “You have no right to try to negotiate his freedom. Bellamy isn’t a prisoner and we’re not at war.” 

Clarke studied Lexa, who looked steadily back at her. She hated that she could read her like this, but Clarke understood what Lexa wanted before she even said it. “You want me to stay,” she said flatly. “That’s what you want, isn’t it.”

Lexa didn’t answer. 

“You _ bitch, _ ” Octavia breathed. “Go  _ float y _ ourself, you conniving, selfish--”

She stopped abruptly at the sound of the large doors behind them opening, and there, a guard gripping his arm tightly, gag in his mouth and hands bound in front of him, was Bellamy. 


	6. Chapter 6

For one moment, no one moved, and then Octavia raced toward him and threw her arms around him, even though he couldn’t hug her back. Over her shoulder, Bellamy’s eyes met Clarke’s and widened.

It was like they were back at Mt. Weather, and Clarke, to her absolute horror, felt her eyes growing wet, the relief sweeping through her so intensely she felt unsteady on her feet. 

Bellamy tore his gaze away from Clarke as Octavia pulled back, ripping the gag from his mouth and untying his hands hurriedly. She ran her hands over his face, which had cuts and bruises on it, but looked clean. She turned back to face Lexa, a snarl on her face. “Why is he gagged and bound?” She demanded. “I thought he wasn’t a prisoner.” 

Lexa rolled her eyes. “He’s gagged because when I brought him to me, he spat on me,” she said, lip curled, “and he’s bound because he’s tried to fight everyone he’s encountered.” 

Clarke bit down on a proud grin. She couldn’t say she wouldn’t have spat on Lexa herself if she were him. Hell, she  _ knows _ she would’ve. 

Bellamy hugged Octavia. “It’s fine, O,” he said. “I’m fine.” 

“Good,” Octavia said, but she noticed where he was looking and she rolled her eyes. “Go ahead,” she said. “It’s been longer since you’ve seen her since you’ve seen me.” 

He grinned at her briefly, but then he was heading over to Clarke. He stopped about a foot away from her, the two of them studying the other, eyes roving, noting the changes since they last saw each other. Clarke was thinner, hands dry and lips chapped, and now she internally thanked Octavia for making her cut her hair, however vain the notion. In contrast, Bellamy was darker, his freckles more prominent, but roughly the same. Perhaps his shoulders were a tad broader, his arms larger. She could imagine the manual labor he did around the expanded camp, the training he did with the guardsmen. She looked at one cut at the side of his face-- any deeper and it would’ve needed stitches. She--

“You’re here,” Bellamy breathed, and her eyes flew to his. They looked, to her relief,  _ happy _ , and if he felt any resentment toward her at all, he didn’t show it now.

“Of course,” Clarke said fiercely, her voice nearly breaking. She would fight tooth-and-nail if it meant getting to him, and then she couldn’t stand it any more, going over and throwing her arms around him, feeling his own come up to clasp her tightly. 

He felt familiar and solid, her head coming up to find the slot between his neck and shoulder, his own dark, shaggy head bending down to nuzzle beside hers. 

Clarke closed her eyes and felt-- perhaps not safe, because nothing on earth was safe, but she felt calm. Centered. 

“Do we have a deal?” 

Bellamy and Clarke jerked apart and Clarke turned, forgetting that Lexa was there. She reminded Clarke of the Lexa she first met-- rigid, cold, unyielding-- but her eyes burned into them. 

“A deal?” Bellamy turned to Clarke. “What’s she talking about?” 

Octavia pushed her way to stand on Clarke’s other side. “Lexa wants Clarke to stay here in exchange for you,” she spat. 

“What?” He turned to Lexa with a sneer. “So what you told me about ‘protecting’ me and Clarke and Monty was just bull, then? Or was this your play all along, to get Clarke--”

“You two really do have the most unoriginal thought patterns,” Lexa said coldly. “If you have changed your mind, your friend can be brought here and the three of you are welcome, but if you insist upon leaving, then Clarke should stay here. I have a proposition for her and your people, anyway, that I would like to discuss with her.”

“Well, let’s discuss it now, shall we?” Bellamy said, with a defiant tilt of his head that Clarke remembered so well. “And see if it’s worth our time.” 

“Clarke is your leader and therefore I will only address it to her,” she dismissed him. 

“Clarke hasn’t been with her people in months,” Octavia said, and Clarke suppressed a flinch at her venomous tone. She couldn’t deny it. “ _ Bellamy _ ’s been leading us these past months.” 

“Clarke did leave,” Bellamy agreed in a careful tone, one that Clarke knew he tried to make devoid of emotion, but she knew him, could still hear it under there, and it broke her heart. She knew leaving was the right thing for her to do, but she did it because she knew he was there for the rest of the kids. She had faith in him then and she did now, but perhaps she hadn’t fully considered, in her haze of grief and self-loathing, the toll it would take on him, too, to lead alone. “But she came back,” he looked at both Clarke and Octavia, a slight question, and when Octavia grudgingly nodded, he became more confident. “We lead together.” 

“And Octavia?” Lexa said. 

“One of our advisors,” Clarke said, smirking, “and Bellamy’s second.” 

“Really,” Lexa said in a flat voice. “Two leaders and only one of you has a second. That’s not how things are done.” 

“With all due respect,” Bellamy drawled, and to Clarke it was as though an image of him, bright and clean and cocky, emerging from their ship that first day on Earth, was superimposed over the man he was now, “we can do whatever the hell we want.” 

She felt that she had never loved him more. 

“It’s funny how you think you have the upper hand here,” Lexa said tightly. “There’s nothing stopping me from having you two removed. I don’t need to negotiate.” 

Clarke stepped forward a few feet in front of the Blake’s and she could feel Bellamy follow her half a step before pausing, letting her take the lead (or perhaps Octavia was holding him back-- it was hard to say.) “Let me remind you,” she said, getting up in Lexa’s face, so fucking done with this pettiness and condescension that she could _ scream _ , “that I helped get Anya and myself out of Mt. Weather, past the doctors and the guards and the cameras and the Reapers. So if you think you can  _ hold _ me somewhere I don’t want to be, you’re  _ very  _ much mistaken.” 

“Not to mention,” came Bellamy from behind her, “how would it look to our people if you’re holding one of our own prisoner? Doesn’t sound very  _ peaceful _ , now does it?” 

Lexa let out a breath. “Fine,” she said shortly. “But just you and Clarke. Octavia goes.” 

Octavia made a sound, but Bellamy stopped her. “Fine,” he agreed, calmly meeting his sister’s irate look, “but you lift the kill order on Lincoln.” Octavia stilled. 

Lexa’s hands clenched. “Fine,” she ground out. “Now, I need to speak with Clarke privately.” Bellamy and Clarke glared at her. “ _ Not  _ about the proposition.” 

Bellamy looked like he was going to roll his eyes but refrained. “I’ll say good-bye to Octavia,” he said. 

Clarke looked at Octavia. “Do you want the radio to go home?” She asked. 

“Nah,” Octavia said. “You keep it; that way you and Bellamy can check in with us. And I  _ expect  _ twice-daily check-ins.” She gave Clarke a look that reminded her frighteningly of Abby. “You don’t get to disappear again.” 

“Octavia--” Bellamy sighed. 

“She’s right,” Clarke swallowed. “No more running away.” She gave Octavia a small, wan smile. “May we meet again,” she said. 

“May we meet again,” Octavia replied, and Clarke knew that they were far from okay, but it gave her hope that maybe one day they would be. 

* * *

Bellamy gave Clarke a look,  _ You sure you’re up for this?  _ before he left and she nodded back imperceptibly at him,  _ Yeah. Better get it over with. _

He quirked his eyebrow, but turned back to Octavia and she turned back to Lexa, who scowled, clearly catching that exchange. 

_ Whoops. Whatever.  _

The moment Bellamy and Octavia left the room, Clarke braced herself for Lexa’s derision and she didn’t have to wait long for it. 

“What are you  _ doing _ , Clarke?” Lexa demanded, coming closer to Clarke. Too close, in her opinion. “Co-ruling? Don’t you understand how this will make you look to the other Clans? As though you’re--”

“What?” Clarke raised an eyebrow, getting a vindicated thrill at seeing Lexa so worked up. It only helped her keep her cool. “ _ Weak _ ?” 

Lexa stopped in her tracks, scowled, a flash of hurt on her face. “You’re mocking me,” she said lowly. 

“I’m not,” Clarke insisted. “But how Bellamy and I govern is not up for discussion.”

“Why are you doing this?” Lexa said. “I understand that Bellamy governed in your absence, but that doesn’t mean you need to continue to share the power with him.” 

Clarke looked back at her steadily. “That’s not it,” she said. “Bellamy and I ruled together before you and I met and we’ll continue to do so now. You got a different impression when we worked together, because Bellamy was in the mountain and I wasn’t, but I didn’t  _ order _ him to go there. He originally volunteered, and we discussed it.” Well, there was a little more to it than that, but nothing Lexa needed to know-- “Bellamy led from inside the mountain and I did from the outside. As a team. I didn’t pull that lever alone.” 

Lexa jumped on that. “Do you not trust in your own decisions anymore? You’re a great leader, Clarke. You made difficult choices; I understand that.” 

“Stop pretending like you know me,” Clarke said coldly. “You and I are not the same; I let you manipulate me into thinking that we were, that it was a  _ good  _ thing, even, but it’s not. Thinking like you and acting like you as opposed to listening to my gut and to my friends only brought pain and destruction. I’m not making that mistake again.” 

“You would’ve done the same thing if you were me, Clarke,” Lexa insisted. 

“I wouldn’t have,” Clarke said, but a twist in her gut told her she wasn’t so sure. 

Lexa continued, “And the only thing that’s a _mistake_ is your insistence of relying upon Bellamy. He is a _weakness_ , Clarke.” **_Your_** _weakness_. 

“You’re wrong,” Clarke said, knowing this with certainty, remembering how she felt when they hugged, when his eyes met hers. Grounded. Herself. “He gives me strength.” She looked straight at Lexa and suddenly Clarke understood-- Lexa was threatened by Clarke and Bellamy together. And perhaps, Clarke thought, mind flashing back to Lexa’s question in her tent, those months ago, more than a little jealous of their closeness. “We’re stronger together.” 

Lexa was silent for a moment, struggling with what to say, how to attack, before she settled on, lamely, “What the other Clans will think, though--”

“I don’t care what the other Clans think,” Clarke rolled her eyes. 

“You will when I tell you--”

Clarke held up her hand. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it without Bellamy,” she said, relishing Lexa’s clenched jaw at her words. 

The door opened and Bellamy himself strode in. “Octavia’s gone?” Clarke asked. 

Bellamy nodded, then raised an eyebrow. “You two done here?”

“Yep,” Clarke said briskly, turning away from Lexa. “I’m sure someone here will be able to show us where we’re going to stay.” 

Clarke couldn’t help it; hearing the doors close on Lexa felt really fucking good; seeing Bellamy at her side, smirking, felt even better. 


	7. Chapter 7

“What part are you at now?” 

Monty, bent over a fried electrical panel he was trying to fix, tried to hide a smile. “The same part as yesterday,” he said, not looking up. “I went to sleep right after you left, Nate.” 

“I bet you were a terrible student on the Ark,” Miller teased, and Monty could hear his footsteps come closer. 

Monty scoffed. “On the contrary, I was top of my class in math, biology, and chemistry,” he said. 

“I notice you didn’t say English.” 

“I’m not a particularly fast reader,” he said dryly, finally looking up, eyebrow raised. “Not all of us are like you, Nate.” 

Miller grinned down at him, close, and Monty straightened up so they would be closer to the same height; when Miller looked down at him, his long eyelashes swept across his cheeks in a way that drove Monty crazy. 

“It’s true,” Miller agreed. “I am one of a kind.” 

“Okay, then,” Monty said, rolling his eyes, but he had a dopey grin on his face, too. Being around Miller was one of the few bright spots of his life right now. He felt bad, but Abby had taken to looking after Jasper more and more, and it was a relief, honestly. He felt like a terrible friend, but there it was. Monty still worried about the Blake's and Clarke; he worried about himself and the fact that him being in Arkadia endangered the entire camp. But he felt better when Miller was around; he felt safe. 

“Hey, listen,” Miller said suddenly, leaning against the table Monty was working on. His brows were furrowed and his mouth was tense. 

Monty stilled. “What?” He asked warily.

“I have to leave tomorrow, for a day trip.”

“Another scouting mission?” Monty frowned. “But--”

“Kane’s orders,” Miller said, lip curled. “I’m the best at navigating after Bellamy; you know Raven’s great at driving and awful at everything else. Kane wants more of the area mapped out, says it’ll make everyone feel better at knowing the terrain more in light of Bellamy’s kidnapping.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Monty said. “What if someone tries to attack because they’ll assume I’m with you? Or worse, use one of you as ransom?” 

“That brings me to my other news,” Miller said. “Clarke and Octavia checked in; they know who took Bellamy. Well-- two guys from Ice Nation took Bellamy, and then-- get this-- the  _ prince  _ of the Ice Nation, who’s working for Lexa, ambushed them, killed them, and hauled Bellamy off to Lexa, who claims that she just wants all of you safe under her protection. Clarke and Octavia threatened this prince guy to leave you alone. Whether he makes good on that, we don’t know, but Clarke and Octavia are on their way to Polis now, where Bellamy is. And they’re gonna have Lexa call off Roan, the prince, so Kane thinks that you can spare me.” 

Monty processed this information, and looked at Miller intently. “But you don’t think you can be spared,” he said slowly. “You still don’t think I’m safe.” 

“Do  _ you _ think you’re safe?” Miller scoffed. “I wouldn’t trust Lexa as far as I could throw her. She betrayed us and condemned us to be trapped inside that mountain! No, I don’t think Lexa wants you all under her protection… she wants the power for herself. The only way I’ll think your safe is if Lexa herself is dead.” 

Monty winced, but he didn’t disagree. “What’s Kane thinking?” 

“Kane wants to believe in peace,” Miller said bitterly, “so much so that he’s willing to make stupid choices and make things seem as though they’re fine even when they’re not. I just-- I  _ hate  _ this. Being ordered around, like we don’t know what’s best for ourselves.”

“Remember the days of ‘whatever the hell we want?’” Monty shook his head. 

“Yeah,” Miller said. “Don’t get me wrong; I love having my dad back, but… he doesn’t even know this, but me staying in the guard, that’s not because of him. It’s because of Bellamy. I don’t follow Kane or my dad or Abby; I follow Bellamy. I trust him and I trust Lincoln and Octavia. I stay in the guard to help train Harper and Monroe and all of the other kids. I do it for them, not for the adults. So when they pull this shit-- it just fucking sucks.” 

Monty couldn’t help himself; he grinned. “Well, well, well,” he said. “Who would’ve ever known? Nathan Miller is just a big ol’ softie.” 

Miller scowled. “Nope,” he said. “It’s not me being a softie; it’s me being a rebel.”

“Uh-huh,” Monty said. “Suuuuuure.” 

They were quiet for a moment before Miller let out a long breath. “I  _ hate _ this,” he said quietly. 

Monty’s fingers twitched for a moment, but, he figured, he had already almost died a couple days before-- he could do this. He grabbed Miller’s hand and squeezed. 

Miller looked surprised, but not alarmed. 

Monty swallowed. “Be careful,” he said. 

“Only if  _ you  _ promise to be careful,” Miller said, turning Monty’s hand over gently to lace their fingers together, his voice not quite even. “I don’t-- I know I’m going to worry while I’m gone, but it would really help if you promised me you’ll stay inside and not take any risks.” 

“I promise,” Miller said, and then, trying to lighten the mood, smiled. “Is this how Bellamy and Clarke feel all the time?” He wondered. “Just constantly worrying about other people?” 

Miller snorted. “Probably,” he said. “If so, I get why Clarke left now.” 

Monty nodded solemnly. “Mom needed her Me Time,” he said, throwing back the old name the delinquents would call Clarke behind her back. Dad, obviously, was Bellamy. 

He missed them. 

It must’ve shown on his face, because Monty felt a squeeze on his hand. He looked up, and Miller’s dark eyes were soft and kind. “Hey,” he said quietly. “They’ll come back, okay? And so will I.” 

Monty never wanted to let go of Miller’s hand. “You better,” he said. 


	8. Chapter 8

“So,” Bellamy said, taking a knight and moving it on the chessboard. “What did the mighty Heda want to discuss?” 

They had been given quarters together, which suited them both just fine: being apart would’ve made Clarke more nervous, really, that Lexa would throw Bellamy out and claim otherwise. And she could tell it made Bellamy feel better, too, making Clarke further realize just how much her absence affected him. He hid it well, but she knew better. 

The quarters were a lot more lavish than Clarke was expecting, even with a small sitting area, and that’s where she saw the chess board set. A sharp sting of nostalgia shot through her, thinking of learning the game with her father, of playing it with Wells, but the temptation was more than she could resist, so she insisted that Bellamy come play with her. The set itself was incomplete, with various pieces on both sides missing, so they improvised, finding pebbles and buttons and anything small enough around the room to complete the set. 

Bellamy, predictably, took to the game immediately, and Clarke would’ve been more amused if it didn’t take him so damn long to make a decision when it was his turn. 

“Wait,” Bellamy interrupted, before Clarke could get in a word. “Let me guess: you’re better than this; you should trust me again; you should lead on your own; you don’t need Bellamy…” He smirked. “Should I keep going?” 

Clarke shrugged. “No, that’s pretty much it,” she said, sacrificing a pawn. “Sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.” 

“Who does that remind you of?” Bellamy asked, but seeing Clarke scowl made him relent. “I’m kidding. You two… I mean, I don’t know Lexa very well, but there are some similarities. But you’re not her, Clarke, okay?” 

“It’s just…” Clarke couldn’t look at him, his earnest dark eyes, the forgiveness there that she didn’t deserve from him. “Lexa told me that if I were her, I would’ve taken the deal with the Mountain, too. And I told her I wouldn’t have, but… I don’t know. What if she was right?” 

She felt his hand on hers and she looked up, eyes wet. “Clarke,” Bellamy said urgently, “you wouldn’t have taken that deal.” 

“How do you know?” Clarke cried. “I’m not-- I’m not a good  _ person _ , Bellamy. I let Ton DC get blown up-- I nearly let your _ sister  _ be blown up-- and so many people in that Mountain died, Bellamy. I couldn’t save them. And then,” her breath hitched, “I left you. I left all of you. And you were--.”

Bellamy rubbed his forehead. “Clarke,” he said. He sounded tired. “I’m not going to tell you that-- that what you did in Ton DC was okay, and that I wasn’t livid when I heard about Octavia.” He sighed. “But I also know you. I know that you didn’t think you had any other options, and that you were trying to keep me safe. I know you wouldn’t have taken that deal at the Mountain because you would’ve fought-- you would’ve fought so  _ hard _ \-- for more options. For another way. You weren’t Lexa, taking the easy way out. And what  _ we  _ did in that mountain was because there was no other way.” His eyes probed hers. “You’ve been by yourself for a long time now. But you weren’t alone then, and you aren’t alone now.” 

Clarke heard what he didn’t say more than what he did; he didn’t address her leaving him-- them. But they had so many issues, so many things to say to each other… they didn’t need to address it all in one night. “I guess it’s just…” Clarke sighed. “When you were in the mountain and I was outside of it, I felt like all of the weight was on my shoulders. So many people were counting on me, and I felt like no matter what I did it was never enough.” She thought of Raven’s words, of Octavia’s… Doing it alone broke her in so many ways. Perhaps Lexa was right; she didn’t trust in the decisions she made anymore. To be honest, perhaps she never fully did. 

“Yeah,” Bellamy said quietly, “I get that.” 

Clarke knew he did, that in many ways he was still that boy underneath the tree who called himself a monster. Her heart ached; she wished she could comfort him, but for all their closeness and understanding, they had been apart now for longer than they’d ever led together. There was a barrier between them now, and Clarke didn’t know how to get it down. 

They sat in silence for a while, trading moves on the chessboard back and forth until Bellamy broke. “So what’s our play here?” He asked abruptly. “Are we just supposed to-- trust her?” 

Clarke thought about it for a minute. “I’m definitely not going to trust her, but we do need to hear her out.” 

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. “We do?” 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Does it look like we have a choice?”

Bellamy leaned back, his head resting on the back of the chair. “I guess not,” he said. “But it makes me anxious, both of us not at camp. Like something bad is going to happen.” 

“You sound like a worried parent,” Clarke said, but she knew the feeling. “I only… I could only leave because I knew you would be with them, at camp. You know that, right?” 

Bellamy heaved a sigh, his chest tight and heavy. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.” Her faith in him was like the oceans he had only seen and studied from space; deep and unfathomable. It was both a burden and salvation. “But I…” _ I needed you, too, and you left me. I was broken, too.  _

“You what?” Clarke asked, leaning forward.

“I can’t do it again,” Bellamy said finally. “Not without you.” 

Clarke’s breath hitched. “You won’t,” she whispered, because if she spoke any louder her voice would break. “I promise.” 

Bellamy closed his eyes in relief. “Good,” he said. “We’re part of the Wanhedae, you know. We need to stick together.” 

Clarke snorted. “God, what a joke,” she said bitterly. 

“Seriously,” Bellamy said, eyes still closed, lips quirked into a smile. “What a dumb-ass name. We could’ve been called something cool, like… The Triumvirate.” 

Clarke laughed. “What?” She asked. 

Bellamy sat up, fully alert now. “You’ve never heard of the Triumvirate?” he asked. 

“Nope,” Clarke said decisively, mesmerized by the alert gleam in his eyes. “Tell me about them.” 

“I mean, it’s a Latin term,” Bellamy said, and Clarke rolled her eyes. Of course. “And to be fair, there’s not just  _ one  _ triumvirate, there’ve been many. It’s a political regime composed of three people, basically. Triumvirates have been recorded in multiple cultures, but the two most well-known triumvirates were from the Roman Republic. The first triumvirate was composed of Caesar, Pompey the Great, and Marcus Crassus-- it was more of an informal alliance so that they could consolidate power across Rome. Crassus died, and Pompey and Caesar fought a civil war for the ultimate power, which obviously, Caesar won.”

“And the second triumvirate?” Clarke asked, fascinated more by Bellamy than the lecture itself. He came alive before her eyes, and she couldn’t look away from him, from the way he spoke with his hands to the way his whole face lit up. 

“The second one was actually legalized, and was comprised of Octavian, who would become Augustus, Mark Antony, and Marcus Aemilius Lepidus. They split up the empire amongst themselves and ruled as military dictators; Lepidus was stripped of his title eventually, and well, we all know what happened to Antony, so Augustus became sole ruler.” 

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “Well, I can’t imagine any of us being military dictators,” she said. “Especially Monty.” 

“True,” Bellamy said, “but at least that’s cooler than Commanders of Death.” He rolled his eyes. “It sounds like a name for a villain from those old video games we learned about.” 

Clarke gave a sudden bark of laughter. “Do you think that’s where they got it from?” She asked. “Some Grounder found some old video games?” 

“That would imply a lot of things,” Bellamy said, but he was grinning, “like Grounders finding a working TV and electricity.” 

Clarke shrugged. “Stranger things have happened here,” she said. 

“Yeah,” Bellamy said, “fuck, they really have.” 

They lapsed into silence again, more comfortable than before. 

“Hey, Bellamy?” Clarke asked. 

“Hmm?” He said, looking at her so openly and affectionately it made her want to weep. 

“I--”  _ I’m sorry, _ she wanted to say.  _ I can’t say that I’m sorry that I left, because I needed to go. I was broken, and I’m still broken, but I’m sorry that I left you to deal with it alone. That wasn’t fair of me because you were hurting, too. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I want it all the same. I need it. Lexa’s right; I am weak. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. _

“I missed you,” she said instead, because it’s still something true. And she couldn’t lie to Bellamy. 

“I missed you, too.” He hesitated. “And Clarke?” 

She leaned forward, concerned. “What is it?”

He looked at her and her breath caught in her throat. “Thank you,” he said, wonder in his voice and in his eyes, “for coming for me. I didn’t… I mean, I knew Octavia would _ try _ , but....”

Clarke’s heart stopped.  _ He didn’t think anyone would come for him.  _ “Bellamy,” she croaked, “ _ of course _ I would come for you. I would-- I would do  _ anything  _ for you.” The sentence tore out of her mouth like it was ripped straight from her chest, leaving her raw and tender. 

His smile was small, his eyes affectionate, and Clarke felt something crack and break open inside of her, but it didn’t feel like grief. 

“I would do anything for you, too, Clarke.” 

It felt like a release. 


	9. Chapter 9

Despite the fact that they were in the heart of Lexa’s territory, in her meeting room, surrounded by her guards and her advisors, Clarke couldn’t quite tamp down on the feeling that the mighty Heda didn’t have the upper hand here. 

And said Heda knew it. 

Lexa began without preamble: “Your people are in danger. The other Clans view you as threats, especially in light of the Mountain. Your camp is growing, your people have proven to be formidable, and they are worried.” 

Bellamy cut in. “We just want to survive,” he said. “We aren’t-- we want peace as badly as you do.” 

“You will wait until I’m done speaking to interject your opinions,” Lexa said coldly. 

Clarke looked up at him; the muscle in his jaw was ticking, and he glanced down at her, as though knowing she’d be watching him. He relaxed, minutely, and stayed silent. 

They turned back to face Lexa; her eye make-up was dark today, darker than the other day, and Clarke recognized that it was a kind of armor for her, too. Clarke was a little flattered that she wore it today: that meant she understood what kind of threat Clarke and Bellamy were. 

“As I was saying,” Lexa continued. “You are a threat. That is in part why you three are being hunted. You are respected and feared and reviled, and, according to the other Clans, you must be stopped at all costs. So killing you off isn’t merely a matter of absorbing power, but of eliminating you.” 

“So where do you come in?” Clarke asked, seemingly unperturbed by this. 

“Simple,” Lexa answered. “We merge clans-- Skaikru is absorbed into Trikru. You will all be safe under my protection.” 

Bellamy and Clarke gaped at her. 

“I thought as Heda everyone listened to you,” Bellamy said, after a few moments of stunned silence. “Couldn’t you just say that we were to be left alone and they’d listen to you? You know, like you were going to do if we allowed you to bring Monty here?” 

Lexa scowled. “Yes, but if we were officially united, there would be more legitimacy.” 

“Right,” Bellamy mocked. “Of course.” 

“How dare you--”

“If we accepted,” said Clarke, and both Lexa and Bellamy, intently glaring at each other, whipped their heads toward her. “We would have access to trade. To more food and supplies.” 

“Yes,” Lexa said slowly. “Of course.” 

“We need to talk about it,” Clarke said, looking at Bellamy. 

Bellamy squared his jaw. “Clarke--” 

“Bell.” Clarke put her hand on his arm and he stilled. “Please.” 

“If you’re to join Trikru you’ll need to control this sort of display,” Lexa remarked with a sniff. 

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Clarke said flatly. “Are we done here?” 

Lexa shrugged coolly. “I guess so, since it seems you two have things to discuss.” She smirked. “If only one of you was a leader then this would all already be settled.” 

To his credit, Bellamy’s only reaction was a quirk of his eyebrow before he turned and left. 

Clarke stared hard at Lexa, who met her gaze unflinchingly. “We’ll let you know our decision in the morning,” she said. 

“You’re more than welcome to join me for dinner.” 

Clarke gave her a smile that was all teeth. “I appreciate the offer, but you can just have it sent to our rooms,” she said. “Bellamy and I might take all night to decide.” 

It was petty. It was petty and stupid and dangerous, to insinuate something was between her and Bellamy to piss Lexa off, _ especially  _ when Clarke knew that Bellamy had a girlfriend. But she couldn’t bring herself to regret it as, for the second night in a row, she turned her back on Lexa and left. 

* * *

“Well,” Bellamy asked. “What do you think?” 

The person on the other end of the radio was silent for a moment. 

“Give us the pro’s and the con’s first,” Clarke said. “Maybe that’ll help instead of just making a full-out decision.”

Bellamy shot her a look, but her instincts were good, because the other person on the line began to speak. 

“Pro’s,” Lincoln said in that deep, rumbling voice of his. She had seen him, briefly, in the meeting room in Arkadia, but Clarke had forgotten the calming effect of his voice. “Arkadia would have access to Trikru’s resources, trading routes, supplies, and knowledge. It would provide legitimacy to your claim on the land. I don’t think the other Clans would fully accept you for a while, but it would expedite that process.”

“And con’s?” Bellamy asked. 

“Lexa claims that we are at peace now,” Lincoln said. “And while it’s unprecedented, I don’t think it’ll last. If we are part of Trikru, it means we get pulled into any conflicts they enter into. Also, our cultures are very different, and we would have to assimilate into Trikru’s, which would be harder for some people than others. And, of course, there’s to whom we would have to swear fealty.” 

“Lexa,” Bellamy said grimly. 

“She’s betrayed Skaikru once,” Lincoln said, “and as someone who was loyal to her once… she is a good leader for the day-to-day, but in terms of making decisions in battle and for the long-term, I don’t have the same faith in her as I once did.” 

“What do you recommend, Lincoln?” Clarke asked.

Lincoln didn’t answer.

“Lincoln?” Clarke asked, looking at Bellamy uneasily. 

Then: “I’m not here alone,” Lincoln admitted. 

“Who’s with you?” Bellamy asked sharply. 

“Octavia, Raven, Monty, and Miller. They’ve heard our conversation. I think… I think you should ask them what they think, too. This is not a decision to be made lightly, and taking advice from those you trust might be the best course of action here, especially since neither of you is entirely sure on what you should do.” 

“Oh, I’m sure,” muttered Bellamy, but Clarke could tell he was having second thoughts on his stance. 

Clarke let out a long breath, unsure. When everyone was in Mt. Weather, she had just gotten so used to keeping her own council, with the occasional advice (or manipulations, a nasty voice in her head said,) from Lexa. Even working and talking things out with Bellamy now felt unfamiliar. Their time as co-leaders at the Dropship was so long ago, and so fleeting, it was like she was re-learning a skill she long forgot. 

But Bellamy… she looked at him steadily, and he looked back. He had been leading them in camp these three long months, and she didn’t know how he did it, technically speaking. Was he just the lonely leader, or did he ask for advice, or something in-between? 

He nodded at her, giving his consent, and though she still felt uneasy about it, Clarke trusted him at least. They would listen to what their friends had to say. 

“Okay,” Bellamy said. “Go ahead.” 

“Speaking as someone from Farm Station…” Monty spoke first, quietly, the other third of their Wanhedae, their Triumvirate. “The rations we have now… we won’t survive winter. We’re trying to store as much food as we can, but the soil isn’t fertile here, isn’t good for crops like potatoes and corn and soybeans that grow quickly and feed many. We can’t be self-sufficient forever.” 

“I’m not pledging allegiance to the woman who killed Finn,” Raven said bluntly. “I can’t-- there has to be some other way that doesn’t involve putting our faith in the woman who betrayed us and left us for dead in that Mountain.” 

Everyone was quiet for a moment, because that was the heart of the matter-- could they put aside their principles, their moral reservations for the sake of saving their people? 

“We should leave,” Octavia burst in, and Bellamy and Clarke could hear Lincoln say, faintly, “ _ Octavia _ \--” 

“No, Lincoln,” Octavia said harshly. “I’m not-- I’m not just saying this because I don’t fit in here, in Arkadia. That’s true, but why are we talking about this as though staying here is our only option? Part of the Ark is here, and that’s shelter, that’s true, but what about leaving? There are other ruined cities that we could make our own, far beyond the reach of the Coalition. And don’t pretend that they don’t exist because Polis is a prime example of it. We could leave, we could make something new in a place where we can make our own living and not have to bow to someone who betrayed us.” 

“How are we supposed to pack up all of our technology?” Raven asked. “It’s tied to the wreckage of the Ark. This isn’t-- I don’t want to become like the Grounders, Octavia. No offense, Lincoln, but I’m not going to descend into a world without technology and medicine, into some medieval, Dark Ages, feudal culture.”

“That technology will mean nothing if we’re dead!” Octavia snapped. 

“Well, then just call me dead now!” Raven said. “Living without it isn’t living for me.” 

“What do you know about not living? I lived under a  _ floor _ \--”

“Oh, go float yourself,” Raven sneered. “Don’t you  _ dare _ \--”

“The fact of the matter is,” Miller said, in that quiet, commanding way of his that silenced everyone else. “Whatever  _ we  _ think, the people here won’t swear fealty to Lexa. At least not directly. Why do we have to join Trikru? Why is that our only option? What if we just existed as another Clan? We could still retain a certain degree of autonomy while still having peaceful relations with the other Clans. We'd have an alliance with Trikru, which could mean getting pulled into their battles, and that isn't ideal, but at least it would be on our own terms, and we would get supplies and food out of it.” 

Bellamy and Clarke looked at each other. It sounded simple enough, but would Lexa agree? Would the other Clans even recognize their legitimacy as one of them? 

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” Bellamy said lowly to Clarke. 

“You think this is a good idea?” Clarke asked, because she needed to hear him say it. 

Bellamy hesitated, and both were aware of the five people on the other side of the radio, listening intently. “I think this is the best option we have right now,” he said. “It solves the immediate problems of starvation and protection, anyway.” 

Clarke bit her lip, nodded. “Are we all in agreement, then?” She asked the radio. 

Silence. Then, 

“Yes,” Monty said firmly. “We’re in agreement. Bring this to Lexa and see what she says.” 

“Okay,” Bellamy said, “we’ll let you know her answer.”

“Don’t do anything stupidly heroic until then,” Raven warned. “That was a message from Gina, by the way, but we all stand by it.” 

Bellamy’s lips quirked. “Good to know,” he said. “Until tomorrow.” 

“Night,” Octavia said, and the radio cut out. 

Bellamy let out a long breath, leaning back into the chair he was sitting in. “Lexa’s not going to like it, is she?” 

“Nope,” Clarke said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Why do you look so stressed? I thought you’d love that, getting on her nerves.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s a huge bonus,” Bellamy admitted shamelessly, “but I don’t want to get so on her nerves that she outright refuses to think about it. Whatever I think about her as a person, she still has some sway over our survival.” His disgusted expression said all that needed to be said on how he felt about  _ that _ . 

He lived his entire life being beholden to someone else, to a system he could never succeed in, and even as the co-leader of their people it chaffed to think he wasn’t entirely free. Always beholden. 

Clarke sighed. “Yeah,” she said. And then she swallowed. “But there’s nothing we can do until tomorrow.” 

“True,” Bellamy said, and then he saw her expression. “What’s on your mind, Clarke?” 

“Will you…” She looked down at her hands, ashamed. “Will you tell me about them? Our friends? About… the last few months?” 

Bellamy wets his lips. “You mean, since you left?” 

_ You left. _

“Yeah,” Clarke said hoarsely. “I mean, if you don’t want to--” 

“Clarke.”

She looked up. His eyes were sad, and she could see the resentment there, finally. It was almost a relief. “You should ask them yourself,” Bellamy said. “You should ask them yourself what they’ve been going through these past few months. When you get back.” 

Clarke nodded. “Okay,” she said, swallowing. “Okay. Then, well… will you tell me about you?” 

Bellamy blinked. “What?” 

“About you. I want to know about you.” 

“You really want to know?” 

That, more than anything else, told Clarke what she needed to know. No one had asked him in the three months since they’d returned from Mt. Weather. She could see, so clearly now, the way he shouldered everyone’s burdens, pushed his own feelings down in order to make sure everyone else was okay. “Yes,” she said. “Everything.” 

He started out slowly, only talking about surface things, about camp goings-on, guard training, Kane, her mother, circling, slowly, around himself. It reminded Clarke of the talks they used to have at The Dropship before they went to sleep for the night, reviewing camp matters. It was Bellamy easing himself in, easing them both back in, to this camaraderie, this partnership. That was okay; she would stay up all night if she had to to listen to him.

She owed him that much. 


	10. Chapter 10

“You should’ve told him,” Monty muttered as he and Miller left Octavia and Lincoln’s quarters after their conversation with Clarke and Bellamy. “They should know.” 

“I will,” Miller sighed, the regret already burning in his gut. “I just didn’t want to have to put another burden on them. Things are already so tense in Polis…”

“What if something happens? What if it would’ve helped them to know?” Monty persisted. 

“You could’ve told them yourself,” snapped Miller. “Any of you could’ve.” 

“I wasn’t there,” Monty said firmly. “Neither was anyone else in that room-- so don’t yell at me because you know you messed up.” 

Miller stopped. Sighed. “Monty,” he said apologetically. 

“You don’t have to follow me around right now,” Monty said. “I’m going to sleep.” He made a sharp right to his quarters, leaving Miller standing in the hallway. 

Great. 

* * *

What he hadn’t told Bellamy and Clarke was this: there was some silver lining to that exploration expedition that Kane made him go on the other day. 

It was him, Kane, his dad, and Monroe-- a small party. Miller was driving when they got the signal. 

“What’s that?” Monroe had frowned; Miller turned the music off. 

“A signal,” Kane said, surprised. “From Farm Station.” 

Miller felt his mouth go dry. “Farm Station?” He asked. Farm Station-- where Monty was from. Where Miller’s boyfriend, Bryan, was from. 

Bryan… he hadn’t thought about Bryan in a while. Probably since Mt. Weather, when Miller was tied up and all he could think was,  _ At least Bryan’s not here. I couldn’t stand it if he was here. _ It was bad enough that his friends were about to be killed. Monty wasn’t there and all Miller could think was that he was glad that Monty had gotten out, that if he had to choose any one of them to survive, Monty was the one who he would pick, hands down, who deserved it the mo-- 

but he was getting off-track. Monty was from Farm Station, but so was Bryan. Bryan could be  _ alive _ . 

“We have to check it out,” Miller said. “More of our people--”

“We don’t know if it’s really our people,” Kane said, but Miller could feel the energy radiating out of him; he wanted to go, too. “And it’s clearly in Ice Nation territory. Things are already bad, considering they want to kill three of our people.” 

“We can’t do nothing!” Miller said desperately, his eyes swinging to his father through the rearview mirror. 

“We can’t just ignore it, Kane,” David Miller said evenly. 

“I’ll talk to Abby,” Kane said. “I agree with you, David, but things are fragile. Maybe if we tell Raven the coordinates, she can set up some long distance communicator--”

“We’ve tried that before,” Monroe pointed out. “And Raven’s devices didn’t pick anything up.” 

“We haven’t tried in a while,” Kane argued. “Once we gave up, Raven’s stuck primarily to making short distance radios only. If she knew exactly the area we  _ wanted _ to communicate with, it could help her.” 

Miller’s hands drummed anxiously on the steering wheel. Kane’s logic was sound, but also  _ maddening _ . Sitting and waiting was not something he specialized in. 

“Now keep this quiet,” Kane ordered them when they returned back to Arkadia. “The less people know, the better.” 

Miller and Monroe exchanged looks and nodded. Kane was right; the less people who knew, the better. But  _ their _ people deserved to know, and Miller had just finished filling them in when the radio sounded and Clarke and Bellamy were on the line, asking for advice. 

And it was too late for their advice now, because at the crack-ass of dawn, Miller, Octavia, Raven, Monroe, Jasper, and Gina were going to find Farm Station. 

He hated leaving Monty again, especially since they weren’t on good terms, but Lincoln assured him that he would make sure that Monty was safe, and Miller trusted Lincoln-- besides, they both knew that if he could, Lincoln would go instead of Miller, but that just wasn’t an option. 

To Miller’s surprise, Monty was waiting for him outside of his and his dad’s quarters that morning. As Miller snuck out, he almost had a heart attack at seeing Monty’s slim silhouette leaned up against the opposite wall.

“What are you doing here?” Miller hissed.

Monty rolled his eyes. “Relax,” he said. “It’s not like I’m out in the open.”

Miller fumed. “Monty--” he said.

“Nate,” Monty said and Miller stopped. Stilled. Only his dad and Monty called him ‘Nate’, the former out of obvious familial affection and the latter… well, Miller didn’t know why. It threw him every time his nickname passed through Monty’s lips, though, and maybe that was why Monty did it. (Even Bryan had only ever called him ‘Miller’ or ‘Nathan’. Never something as short and sweet as ‘Nate’.) “I didn’t want you to leave like this.”

Miller licked his lips. “Like what?” 

Monty pushed off of the wall and came to stand in front of him. “We were irritated with each other last night, and I didn’t want you to leave thinking I was mad at you or that… you were mad at me.” 

“I’m not mad at you, Monty,” Miller said guiltily. “I’m sorry about last night. You were right; I should’ve told Clarke and Bellamy.” 

“I’m not mad at you, either,” Monty said with a slight smile. “You should’ve told them, but I understand why you didn’t. And it looks like you have things under control here. Just-- just be careful, okay?” 

“I will,” Miller promised. “Lincoln’ll be  _ hanging out  _ with you today. Be careful, too.” 

Monty rolled his eyes, but he said, “I’ll be good for Lincoln. I’m sure if anything happens he can just throw me over his shoulder and run away.” 

The image made Miller smile. “Why do you think I chose him?” 

“Smart move.” 

“Yeah, I--” Miller looked at his watch. “I have to go.” 

_ Don’t, _ Monty wanted to say.  _ Stay here with me, where it’s safer, where I don’t have to worry whether or not Azgeda will catch and kill you, too.  _

Monty felt guilty; Jasper was going, too, but he wasn’t at Jasper’s door right now, making sure he didn’t go out on an unsanctioned, dangerous mission with bad blood between them. But Monty knew that Jasper wouldn’t want to see him, anyway. 

Miller squared his shoulders, licked his lips. “Monty, I--” 

Monty threw his arms around Miller’s shoulders and tucked his chin into Miller’s neck, silencing him. “Stay safe, Nate,” he murmured. 

“I’ll come back,” Miller promised, his arms closing around Monty. He could let himself do this, just once. He wouldn’t do it again until he knew definitively if Bryan made it or not. 

“You better,” Monty murmured, and Miller closed his eyes, holding on for just a moment more. 

* * *

When Kane found out where the Delinquents had gone, he was furious, ready to revoke all of their privileges and freedoms. He raged at Monty and Lincoln, since it was fruitless to deny that they were in on the plan. 

“If they’re hurt-- if they anger Azgeda,” Kane was so enraged he could barely speak. 

“They weren’t going to stay here and wait,” Lincoln said. “There was too much to lose. Monty’s parents could be there. Miller’s boyfriend could be there.” 

Monty blinked. “You know about Miller’s boyfriend?” He said. 

“Octavia told me,” Lincoln shifted his stance uneasily. “Did you…?” 

“Yeah, I knew,” Monty said, shying away from Lincoln’s pitying look. “Bryan. He was-- is? A couple years older than us. I…” he hadn’t thought about Bryan. Miller hadn’t brought him up, save for one time, early on after they got back from Mt. Weather, everyone-- Bellamy, Miller, Monty, Raven, Octavia, Harper, Monroe, Jasper-- got piss drunk, and they all talked about who they lost, honoring, mourning the dead. Miller brought up his boyfriend, Bryan. 

_ “He’s probably dead,” Miller had said. “But I’ll always wonder, you know?”  _

And now he might be alive, right when Monty felt that he and Miller were on the precipice of something fantastic, something epic, like right out of _Song of Achille_ s . They already had all of the other components: bloody wars, vicious betrayals, the yearning and journeying to find a home, loves across time and space and all reason… 

Kane cleared his throat, and Monty jumped. He’d forgotten Kane was even there.

“Keep me posted on when they return,” he said ominously. “They’re in for a long talk with me.” 

“Yes, Kane,” Monty muttered. He never remembered Kane being this…  _ paternal  _ when he was on the Ark. He’d probably spent too much time around Bellamy lately. 

“What was that, Green?” 

Lincoln glanced down at him, a corner of his mouth curled up. 

He had said the last part out loud. Whoops. 

“We’ll let you know,” Lincoln promised. 

Kane let out a hmph, and walked away. 

The Delinquents were lucky, then, that they came back with the entirety of Farm Station trailing behind them, all sixty of them, including Miller’s boyfriend, Bryan. 

“Shit,” Harper had said as they watched Miller, arm around a brunet in a red sweatshirt, come in. “I’m sorry, Monty.” 

“What’s there to be sorry for?” Monty asked. “Nothing happened.” 

“Yeah, but…” Harper trailed off, biting her lip at the look on Monty’s face. “Never mind. You’re right. I’m being silly.” 

“You’re not,” Monty gave her a smile, small and pained. “You’re just being a good friend.” 

Harper put her head on Monty’s shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her. “You deserve good friends, Monty,” she said, and he put his head on hers. 

“Monty?” The question came from behind him and Monty tensed. It was Jasper. 

“Yeah?” 

“I uh…” Jasper cleared his throat awkwardly. “There’s someone here I thought you’d like to see.” 

Monty removed his arm from Harper’s shoulders and turned around. He gaped. “Mom?” He breathed. 

“Monty,” Hannah Green said, teary-eyed, as she and Monty hugged. “Monty, my boy.” 

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Monty said, pulling away, his eyes looking over her shoulder. “Where’s Dad?” 

Over Hannah’s shoulder Monty saw Jasper’s face. “He’s…” 

“He didn’t make it,” Jasper said. “I’m sorry, Monty.” It was, perhaps, the kindest thing Jasper had said to him in months, but it didn’t hurt any less as he clutched Hannah again and cried. 

As he hugged his mom to him, Jasper looking sympathetic over his shoulder, Monty thought that maybe this was okay. He ‘lost’ Miller, sure, but he never really had him in the first place. But with that loss came back his mother, and maybe, even, Jasper’s friendship. If that’s what he got in this world, he thought firmly, he would take it. It would be enough. 

There was a flurry of activity, joyous reunions and people running around, trying to figure out where everyone was going to stay. The chaos was tinged with peace and joy, and Monty thought that things would turn out alright, after all. 

And then the people of Farm Station saw Lincoln. 


	11. Chapter 11

“It’s bad,” Monty said soberly over the radio. He and the others called Clarke and Bellamy two days after Farm Station was found and came to Arkadia to fill them in. Clarke and Bellamy listened in shock and amazement, until the other shoe dropped. 

Charles Pike, their old Earth Studies teacher on the Ark, was the proclaimed leader of Farm Station and when he saw that a Grounder was living in Arkadia he and the other Farm Station people nearly rioted until Kane and Abby calmed them down. Even then, things were tense at the station. The Delinquents agreed that Clarke and Bellamy needed to be told immediately about what was going on. 

“How bad?” Clarke said, glancing over at Bellamy, who was already looking back at her. 

Monty sighed. “They don’t-- Pike doesn’t even want to  _ stay _ here if Lincoln is here. And then he found out about Octavia and Kane’s friendship with Indra… and then he found out about Nyko.” 

Clarke frowned. “Nyko?” 

“Nyko came to us for help a couple days ago,” Monty explained. “With some of Trikru. They’re sick, really sick, and he needed Abby’s help. There’s not many of them, but they’re in the infirmary, and when Pike heard he f _ lipped _ . He says that we’ve been brainwashed. Gone soft. That we’ve forgotten about who the enemy really is here.” 

Bellamy scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck,” he swore. “So he thinks the solution is to pack up and go inhabit the mountain where they hung us upside down and drilled into our bodies? You know, the people who actually  _ were  _ our enemies?” Apparently once things were explained to Pike about the last four months on Earth, he seized on the idea of relocating to Mt. Weather. 

“Your mom is for it, Clarke,” Monty said. “She practically salivated at the thought of all of those medical supplies in there.” 

Bellamy flinched and Clarke closed her eyes. “That sounds like my mother,” she said flatly. “She’s not wrong, those supplies would be incredibly useful, but…”

“They’re also instruments that were used to torture us,” Bellamy said harshly. “ _Fuck_!” 

Clarke sighed. “You told them that the Grounders would view it as an offensive move, right? That they would feel threatened.” 

“We did,” another voice-- Miller’s-- confirmed. “Pike just said that since that was the original intention for us to inhabit the mountain he didn’t understand why we couldn’t stick to that plan.” 

“I thought Pike was a smart guy,” Bellamy said darkly. “The original plan also included the fact that there would be no one  _ in _ Mount Weather! And since there was, that changed everything.”

“My mom said…” Monty paused. “She said that when they came here, the Azgeda brutally murdered anyone they saw, including children. I don’t like what they’re saying, but I understand why.” 

“Children?” Bellamy swore. 

“They did behead Lexa’s lover and send her Costia’s head,” Clarke said dryly, although she felt like she was going to be sick. “That’s awful.” 

“Why can’t we just scavenge?” Bellamy said. “If it’s so necessary, take what you need and get out. Don’t stay there.” 

“Moving what we really want and need wouldn’t be simple, or even probable,” Raven piped in. “Not from that far of a distance and not with technology that delicate.” 

“We shouldn’t go there at all,” Jasper said darkly. “That place is a tomb.” Everyone was silent for a moment, waiting for him to call them all murderers, but he mercifully remained silent. 

“Farm Station says it’s our only chance of surviving winter,” Monty said. “And it’s not like the Grounders are going to use that space anyway, so we would technically be infringing  _ less _ on their territory than we are right now. I don’t think they’re  _ wrong _ , but-- I don’t want to go back there. I can’t do it.” 

“We can’t stop them from going,” Clarke said, resigned. “But make sure they know all of the risks. We’re going to tell Lexa.” 

“We are?” Bellamy said sharply. 

“I don’t like it either,” Clarke snipped, “but how would it look if she finds out that we knew and  _ didn’t _ tell her? Then it would really look like we had something to hide!” 

“Yeah, but what if she attacks the Mountain?” Bellamy demanded. “We would’ve led her right to it!” 

“She’s going to find out either way,” Clarke said wearily. “Mt. Weather is technically in Trikru territory, whether or not they utilize it; they’re going to notice if they see five dozen Skaikru moving in.” 

“Clarke’s right,” Miller said. “We can tell Farm Station the risks, and then it’s up to them. There’s only so much we can do.” 

“I don’t want any of you going with them,” Bellamy said sternly. “I don’t care how fortified that mountain is. We found our way into it once, twice-- that means the Grounders can, too. We’re going to try as hard as we can over here to make sure that Trikru won’t attack, but that doesn’t mean other Clans won’t.” 

“Really?” Monty asked. “Other Clans would trespass into Trikru territory just to attack us?” 

“I’m not putting anything past Azgeda,” Clarke said. “Who knows how Lexa would take it… they wouldn’t be attacking Trikru, after all.” 

“How’s that going, anyway?” Octavia spoke up. “Our proposal to Lexa.” 

Clarke and Bellamy looked at each other. “Not great,” Bellamy admitted. 

_ “You’re telling me,” Lexa said lowly. “That Skaikru are asking to become their own Clan?”  _

_ “Why not?” Bellamy asked, crossing his arms.  _

_ “The arrogance of it all,” Lexa said, teeth bared. “As though you are equal to us, as though you have fought as long and hard as we have--”  _

_ “Who brought down that mountain?” Clarke demanded. “Who did what none of you could?”  _

_ “You’ve only been here for a few months, you know none of our ways--” _

_ “Then teach us!” Clarke said, throwing her hands up. “We’re willing to learn. We’re willing to do what it takes to live in peace.” She narrowed her eyes at Lexa. “The question is: are you?”  _

_ Lexa was silent for a long moment, her advisor, Titus, hovering in the background. “I will take this matter to the other Clans.”  _

_ “I thought you were Heda,” Bellamy sneered. “Isn’t your word the end-all?”  _

_ Lexa looked at him coolly. “It is,” she said, “but I want to gauge their reactions and see if it is a… feasible, safe action to take.”  _

_ “Because they wouldn’t riot if Trikru and Skaikru became one,” Clarke said.  _

_ “They wouldn’t,” Lexa snapped. “Skaikru being absorbed into Trikru would gain more legitimacy than being a Clan of their own.”  _

_ “We can come state our case before them,” Bellamy said. _

_ “No,” Lexa said. “Don’t be idiotic. No one can know you’re here, remember? They’d kill you.” _

_ “Even under your watch as your guests?” Clarke shot back. “And Monty’s not here-- the ritual wouldn’t be complete.”  _

_ “If they had you both, nothing would stop them from getting to Monty.”  _

_ “They don’t know where Monty is, and he’s not at Arkadia,” Clarke lied brazenly.  _

_ Bellamy, to his credit, didn’t react, still gazing stonily at Lexa through the lie.  _

_ “They would find him,” Lexa asserted.  _

_ “Well, for three months, they didn’t find me,” Clarke snarled. “So good luck to them.”  _

_ “Your arrogance will get you into trouble,” Lexa warned.  _

_ “A lot of things get me into trouble,” Clarke said with a frosty smile.  _

Bellamy sighed. “It’s not going well, and this won’t make it better.” 

“Clarke,” Monty said, pained. “My mom is going to Mt. Weather.” 

Clarke sympathized; she knew how hard it was to be on opposing sides from one’s mother. “Give her a reason to stay with you,” Clarke said. “If you-- how are you healing? Maybe have a relapse?” 

“Like your mom would buy that,” Raven said. 

“Head injuries can be unpredictable,” Clarke argued. “Even if you just complain of a  _ headache _ , Mom will examine you.” 

“How’s Lincoln?” Bellamy asked. “Is he-- is he there? Is he okay?” 

“He’s with Kane right now,” Octavia said. And then, “ _ Bell. _ ” No one could say that Octavia’s voice  _ cracked  _ (and Octavia herself would never admit it,) but there was a deep-seated desperation there that everyone heard, the same one they heard when Octavia suggested they all pack up and leave Arkadia. 

“Everyone out! It’s Blake bonding time!” They heard Raven call, and then people shuffling out. 

“I’ll uh-- I’ll go bathe,” Clarke murmured, standing up and passing Bellamy, whose face was stricken. On instinct, she put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, Bellamy’s hand coming up and clasping hers for a moment before falling away. 

Clarke made her way to the door--

“What is it, Octavia?” 

And then, stepping through, and the door swinging shut: 

“Bell, I can’t stay here.” 

* * *

When she came back, padding to his side with damp hair and flushed cheeks, she found Bellamy with his elbows on his knees, chin in his hand, eyes distant. 

“How is she?” 

He didn’t answer for a moment. “I love Octavia,” he said, voice scratchy. “More than anything. I wouldn’t trade her for the world. But sometimes I can’t help but resent my mother for bringing Octavia into this world, where she feels like she doesn’t belong anywhere.” He looked over at Clarke and his dark eyes were wet. “I couldn’t-- I can’t-- there’s nothing I can do to make her feel better and it kills me.” 

Gingerly, Clarke came to sit beside him. “She wants to leave Arkadia,” she said, not bothering to play dumb. “With Lincoln.” 

He nodded. “He wants to stay at Arkadia for now, but yeah, if she can convince him they’ll both leave.”

“Are you going to let her go?” 

Bellamy sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m going to let her go.” He barked out a laugh. “Let. I haven’t ‘let’ Octavia do anything since we’ve come down here. She’s been her own person, no matter how hard I’ve tried otherwise.” 

“She’s grown up,” Clarke bumps her shoulder, gently, to his.”You did good, Bellamy. You raised her to be this strong, awesome person who is so loyal and so kind and loves more fiercely than any other person I know.” She paused. “Well,” she said. “ _ Almost  _ more than any other person I know.” 

Startled, Bellamy looked over at her, and saw her smile, shy and bright. “It must be a Blake trait,” she said. 

His eyes widened a little at her meaning. 

“Maybe,” he said, a bit bashfully. 

“It’s true,” Clarke insisted. 

They sat in the quiet for a few minutes. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke sighed. “What are we going to do?” 

Bellamy’s lips quirked at her use of ‘we’. It felt like a breakthrough, like she was starting to understand that it wasn’t her against the world, Atlas with the earth on her shoulders. He would share the world, walk right beside her. She wasn’t alone anymore, and she was starting to believe it. 

“You’re right,” Bellamy said. “We come clean about Mt. Weather to Lexa tomorrow, but we have to make her believe that Monty isn’t there, either.” 

“In theory,” Clarke said slowly, “what if we pretend Monty’s at the Dropship?” 

“What do you mean, pretend?” 

“I think we’ll sell it better if we’re both actually thinking of a place-- the same place. Of course we’re not going to have  _ actually  _ Monty go there, but…”

“And if they go there?”

“Who cares, no one’s there.” 

“Yeah,” Bellamy exhaled. “God, I miss that place.” 

“Yeah, me, too,” Clarke said. “Who would’ve ever thought that our problems then were so simple?” 

“Our biggest problem was us trying to kill each other,” Bellamy said with a slight laugh. “We had no idea about everyone  _ else _ who might want to kill us.” 

Clarke thought about the mini graveyard they had there (Wells. Atom. Roma.), and the bodies. She thought about Finn’s ashes, still at Arkadia. “I want to go back,” she said. “Just once. Just to say good-bye.” 

Bellamy put his arm around Clarke, who put her head on his shoulder. They were never affectionate, really, not much before, but now that they were together again, they both gravitated towards each other. Clarke thought that perhaps she wasn’t the only one who felt centered by the other’s presence. “We will,” Bellamy promised. 

Clarke let out a long breath. “So,” she said. “On a scale of 1-10, how pissed is Lexa going to be tomorrow when we tell her about Mt. Weather?” 

“The real question is,” Bellamy drawled, “why limit ourselves to just 1-10?”

Clarke groaned. “Yeah, I think so, too.” 

* * *

It started out well: 

“So,” Lexa announced, “while I cannot say that the other Clans approved of Skaikru becoming the 13th Clan of the coalition, I do not think they will harm you for it, either.” 

“That’s… promising,” Bellamy said. “I guess.” 

“Well, let’s hope they won’t harm us for this, either,” Clarke said grimly, before she launched into an abbreviated version (and one that didn’t necessarily involve any clandestine unsanctioned trips into Azgeda territory) of the discovery, merging, and subsequent separation of Farm Station. 

After Clarke finished by admitting Farm Station’s plan to inhabit Arkadia, Lexa became quiet. Too quiet. Clarke and Bellamy looked at each other uneasily, both pointedly ignoring the stoic Titus in the background. 

“You’re telling me,” she finally said, in a low, dangerous voice, “that Skaikru plans to  _ inhabit  _ that awful,  _ desecrated  _ piece of land? The place where so many of my people suffered and were tortured at the hands of those monsters?”

Clarke tilted her chin up, defiant in the face of Lexa’s anger. “Bellamy and I have recommended that they obviously not go to the Mountain, and what the implications were, but--”

“They don’t recognize your leadership?” Lexa drawled, eyebrow raised. 

“They don’t know how things work down here,” Bellamy amended swiftly. “They’re used to operating independently. Just like we were, before the adults.” 

“They’ve lost people to Azgeda’s attacks,” Clarke said bluntly. “And they don’t have the horrors of Mt. Weather hanging over their heads like we do. They view it as a fortress; a place to be safe and defend rather than attack.” 

“I’m sure that’s how the Mountain Men thought of it at first, too,” Lexa bit out harshly. “This is an act of war.” 

“That’s why us joining the coalition is more important than ever,” Bellamy broke in. “People are going to Mt. Weather because we won’t last the winter with the food and shelter we have now. With the trade, knowledge, and guarantee of peace from being apart of the coalition, hopefully we can convince Farm Station that not only are you our allies by instrumental to our survival, that we don’t  _ need  _ Mt. Weather and its fortress to be safe.” 

“And do you truly believe that, Bellamy Blake?” Lexa asked shrewdly. “Do you believe we are your allies? That you can trust us-- trust  _ me _ \-- with your people?” 

Bellamy’s hands were balled up into tight fists, the veins in his arms bulging. Lips pressed tightly together, the lines around his dark eyes were drawn and tight. “I don’t have a choice,” he admitted through a clenched jaw. He looked at Clarke, who looked steadily back at him. “ _ We _ don’t have a choice,” he amended, more clearly. “This is the best we can do for our people right now. There’s a saying, you know, amongst the Skaikru: fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” He looked back at Lexa. “Maybe this will bring shame upon me, upon us, but better shame than death and starvation.” 

Lexa had all of the power here-- they were on her territory, abiding by her rules, trying to negotiate a deal that didn’t benefit her as nearly as much as it benefited them; but Bellamy’s dark, tense eyes held a warning that if another betrayal by her brought such shame upon them then Bellamy would bring down the world upon her. 

“I will take this into consideration,” Lexa finally said. “In the meantime, what will you do about this…  _ Pike _ ?” 

Clarke looked at Bellamy and he nodded. They had discussed this earlier. “We need to leave,” she told Lexa. “We need to go back to Arkadia and be present. There’s only so much you can do via radio.”

Lexa pressed her lips together tightly for a moment. “I see,” she said, clearly displeased. 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “We can come back when we’ve reached a consensus,” she said. “It just doesn’t--”

“Why doesn’t one of you go back and one of you stay here?” Lexa asked. “You can communicate via this… radio. It will be easier. And faster.” 

Now Bellamy was the one to roll his eyes. “Let me guess,” he deadpanned. “ _ Clarke _ should be the one to stay.” 

Lexa turned flashing eyes on him. “It just makes sense,” she said coolly. “After all, as your sister said,  _ you _ have been the one at camp these past months, and Clarke has been living like one of us. It’s the natural decision.” 

Clarke hesitated, because it _ did _ make sense. “Well--” she began. 

A pounding on the door, guards shouting. “What is this?” Lexa hissed at Titus, who went to investigate. 

“It’s Prince Roan,” Titus said. “He’s demanding to see you and…” he looked at Bellamy and Clarke with thinly veiled disgust. 

_ Well, fuck you, too,  _ thought Clarke. 

“Let him in,” Lexa said. 

Titus began to protest, but her withering glare stopped him. He let Roan in, who came, in long, demanding strides, befitting of the royalty he was. “Is it true?” He demanded without preamble, addressing Clarke and Bellamy. 

“Is what true?” Bellamy said. 

“That Skaikru plans on living in Mt. Weather.” 

Clarke and Bellamy looked at each other in surprise. “We just found out,” he said. “How did  _ you  _ find out?” 

“I saw them,” Roan said grimly. “Trekking from Arkadia to the mountain. And that’s not all I saw.” 

“What?” Clarke asked sharply. 

“Spies,” Roan said. “From Ice Nation. I caught one and I think you’ll be interested in what she has to say.” 

“Where is she?” Lexa asked. 

“Your guards have her,” Roan said. Lexa nodded at the door, and two guards, dragging a kicking, bound girl, tossed her into the room. 

Bellamy stilled. “ _ Echo _ ,” he said. 

“You know her?” Roan asked.

“We were… next to each other in the mountain,” Bellamy said, and Clarke bit her lip so hard she almost drew blood. 

“Then perhaps she’ll tell you,” he ripped the gag from her mouth, and Echo exploded in a snarling mass of Trigedasleng until Lexa snarled, “STOP.” 

“What’s going on here?” Lexa asked, and when Echo stayed silent, she looked to Roan fiercely. “Well?” 

“Since she won’t answer,” Roan said, “then I will. At the orders of my mother, Echo and another warrior are plotting to attack Mt. Weather, and all those who reside inside.” 


	12. Chapter 12

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” 

Monty’s hands tightened into fists briefly before he unfurled them, slowly. Miller still insisted on being his guard, despite the patrols not seeing anyone around the camp, and this was the first time they’d seen each other in two days due to the chaos of Farm Station. They were  _ awkward  _ around each other now and Monty hated it. He just wanted it to go away-- it would all be so much easier if they pretended that there was nothing between them, that they hadn’t spent hours together talking or walking around Arkadia or reading together or just sitting in silence, enjoying the other’s company. Like Monty hadn’t reached for Miller’s hand when he left, and that Miller hadn’t grasped it just as tightly. Like the last time they were alone, they held each other like the world was ending again. 

“Abby released me today,” Monty said quietly, his head coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “When I told her I had a headache, she gave me some medicine and told me that was normal. To come back tomorrow.” 

Miller’s eyes probed Monty’s tight, tense face, but Monty wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I know that’s not all,” he said. 

“My mom wants me to see Abby and then leave,” he said. “For Mt. Weather.” 

Miller swore. Then, 

“Bryan wants me to do the same.” 

Monty closed his eyes, sighing. “What do we do?” 

“I’m not leaving,” Miller said firmly. “My dad isn’t going and I’m staying with him.” 

Monty opened his eyes and made the mistake of looking right into Miller’s. “What about Bryan?” He asked. 

“He knows how I feel,” Miller said. “He knows that I think it’s too risky. He thinks I’ll change my mind.” 

“But you won’t.” 

“No,” Miller said, gaze piercing. “I’m not. I won’t leave.” The word  _ you  _ vibrated in the air, unsaid but felt. 

They stared at each other for a long, dangerous moment, before Monty came back to himself and looked away. 

“Where’s Octavia?” He asked, clearing his throat. 

“I don’t know,” Miller said, looking at Monty intently. “Monty--”

“We should go find her,” Monty said, brushing past him. “She has the radio; we can talk to Clarke and Bellamy and ask them.” 

“ _ Monty _ .” 

Monty stopped walking but he didn’t look back. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Monty kept walking. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He was so tempted to add  _ Miller _ to the end of that sentence instead of  _ Nate _ , a subtle, passive-aggressive way to show his displeasure, but he didn’t want Miller to know how deep his feelings went. What was the point? 

So he said nothing at all. 

* * *

“What we’re doing,” Pike was saying smoothly as Monty and Miller walked into the cafeteria, where Octavia and Lincoln were in his face, Kane and Abby flanking them, “is protecting ourselves.”

“Protecting yourselves?” Octavia yelled. “It’s suicide, that’s what it is!” 

“If the Grounders attack,” Pike said, “then we’ll kill them. There are weapons in there, aren’t there?” 

“No,” Kane said sharply. “We have worked too hard for peace. You’re not going to screw that up.” 

“You have to understand why the Grounders would think you’re a threat,” Octavia said. “Their history with that mountain--”

“Has nothing to do with us,” Pike said. “Haven’t our people suffered in there, too? And they betrayed us! Why should we care about them?” 

“Grounders or Sky People,” Abby said quietly, “we are all human beings deserving of compassion.” 

“That’s not what the Grounders thought when they killed our people,” Pike said stonily. 

“If we keep fighting each other,” Kane said, “we’ll just be in a cycle of never ending revenge.” 

“You’ll never survive with that attitude,” Pike said. 

“We’ve done pretty well so far--” 

“Octavia? Octavia, are you there?” 

Not taking her eyes off of Pike, Octavia brought the radio to her lips. “I’m here, Bell. What’s going on?” 

“Don’t go to Mt. Weather, do you hear me?  _ Do not go to Mt. Weather. _ ” 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Octavia said dryly. 

“Octavia,” Clarke now. “The Ice Nation is going to attack Mt. Weather if we inhabit it.” 

It was as if the room collectively drew a breath. 

“What?” 

“We-- a spy was caught. Do you remember Echo? She’s working for Queen Nia of Azgeda. Nia wants a war. She wants Skaikru decimated and since we’re on the brink of joining the Coalition-- this is the only way for her to get it.” 

“How do they plan on getting in?” Abby asked. “Mt. Weather is a fortress.” 

“If we could get in, they can,” Clarke said. “But Echo wouldn’t talk, so we don’t know exactly.” 

“And we weren’t going to let her be tortured,” Bellamy said roughly. “It would be worthless to, anyway. Lexa said that their warriors are trained for this.” 

“I don’t understand,” Kane said. “We all weren’t planning on moving into Mt. Weather. If even a fraction of us moved in, that wouldn’t count as  _ decimating _ our people.” 

“But Nia was counting on us fighting back after the attack, starting a war that we could never win,” Clarke said, and Octavia shot Pike a sharp look. “She had heard rumors of Skaikru and Trikru merging, and if that were true, Lexa and Trikru would have to avenge us. It would start a full-out war and Azgeda would get rid of us and Lexa.” 

“Where is Nia now?” 

“Echo wouldn’t say. Lexa called for soldiers to go to Azgeda and bring her to Polis, but… who knows.” 

“Clarke,” Kane asked. “Who was the source?” 

A pause. “Roan,” Clarke admitted. “Nia’s son.” 

“The one who hunted Bellamy?” Kane demanded. “How do we know he’s telling the truth?” 

“He said he caught Echo by our camp,” Bellamy said. 

“And what was he doing there?” Pike snarled. “Waiting to kidnap Monty?” 

“He knows better,” Octavia said sharply. “He wasn’t going to capture Monty-- he was going to protect him.” 

“ _ What _ ?” Monty asked. 

“I told him to eliminate any other threats around our camp,” Octavia said. “When I was coming back from Polis, he was hanging around here on Lexa’s orders. I told him to keep watch, and, if he did, I would tell Clarke and Bellamy to have Lexa lift his banishment.” 

“Has she?” Kane asked. 

“She will, when Clarke and Bellamy come back,” Octavia said. “In their absence, Roan is here.” 

“And you didn’t think to tell us?” Kane said. 

“I was going to,” Octavia insisted, but her eyes slid over to Pike. “And then…” 

“No,” Pike said firmly. “I don’t believe this for a second. You’re telling me the prince of the Grounders is helping  _ us _ ? No. It’s a trap. They want Mt. Weather for themselves.” 

“They consider Mt. Weather to be  _ desecrated _ ,” Clarke said. “It’s a place of pain and suffering. They wouldn’t inhabit it.”

“But they might pillage it,” Pike said. “The weapons, the technology…”

“They don’t care about that!” Octavia said. 

Pike glared at Kane and Abby. “You can do whatever the hell you want with people here,” he said. “But Farm Station is mine, and we’re going to Mt. Weather. We aren’t going to starve like you are.” 

Kane’s jaw ticked but he didn’t say anything. Abby didn’t either as Pike walked out. 

The radio crackled. 

“Mom,” Clarke said. “Can’t you forbid it?” 

Abby ran a hand over her eyes. “How? Turn our guards against our own people? No, Clarke, I’m not going to stop them. Pike knows the risks, as do his people. We have other things to worry about here.” 

“My mom wants me to go,” Monty said. 

Abby looked back at him. “Then we’ll give you reasons to stay,” she said fiercely. “You  _ and  _ your mother.” 

“If only we could do that for everyone,” Miller murmured. 

Monty looked over at him. “We’ll find a way,” he promised.

* * *

The objective was clear: no one would go to Mt. Weather if they could help it. Abby came up with a simple, but genius plan to ensure that Miller and Monty both would stay: Monty had a “relapse” and Miller, his personal guard, had to stay behind as well. Monty was his responsibility, after all. 

“He’s safe here,” Bryan said impatiently. Half of Farm Station had left for Mt. Weather the week before, communicating via radios Raven sent them with. They had wanted Raven to go back, too, to set up better communications, but even if Abby would’ve allowed it Raven didn’t want to set foot in that mountain again. “That scary Grounder can look after him.” 

“His name,” Miller said sharply, “is Lincoln. Clarke and Bellamy trust me with this, and I’m not abandoning my duty.”

“You duty,” Bryan repeated. “Are you sure that’s all it is?” 

Miller bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I don’t think you realize how Monty looks at you,” Bryan said softly, warm brown eyes sad. “And how you look back.” 

“I don’t--” Miller took Bryan’s face in his hands. “I’m with  _ you _ . Okay? Not Monty.” The words _ I love you  _ clogged in his throat. 

“I’ve already lost you once,” Bryan said, swallowing. “Twice, even. Once to the Skybox and once to the ground. For us to lose each other now… it doesn’t make sense.” 

“When it comes to love,” Miller said slowly, not quite understanding Bryan’s meaning, “things usually don’t make sense.” 

“Love,” Bryan murmured, eyes fluttering close, as he leaned in. Miller closed the gap, and Bryan’s lips were as familiar as they ever were, warm and firm, like the man himself. Steady. Dependable. Miller tilted his head, his lips pursing, searching for that feeling, the same one he felt on the Ark before he was locked up, stolen moments with Bryan in alcoves and supply closets. The swooping feeling in his stomach whenever Bryan smiled at him. He searched for it desperately as Bryan’s hands came up and pulled him, by the waist, closer. 

But the feeling was elusive, and no matter how closely they were pressed together, no matter how familiar Bryan’s hands and his lips and his tongue felt, it wasn’t the same. 

It wasn’t love.

A pounding on the door to his quarters broke them apart. It was frantic, and Miller strode over, yanking open the door. 

Monty. Of course.

“What is it?” Miller asked frantically, his eyes roving over Monty. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s happened,” Monty said. “We just got the call from Mt. Weather.” 

“What?” Bryan demanded, coming up beside Miller. Monty’s eyes flickered to him, no doubt taking in his swollen lips and mussed hair. 

“Pike and my mom led the other people from Farm Station there today,” Monty said, turning bleak eyes on Bryan. “They didn’t even find people, they found… ashes. Azgeda didn’t just attack Mt. Weather, they figured out a way to blow it up.” 


	13. Chapter 13

“Bellamy.” 

Hunched over, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, he didn’t answer her. Ever since he’d heard from their friends what had happened at Mt. Weather, he’d just-- shut down. Didn’t say a word as Octavia and Monty and even Raven stumbled over each other trying to tell them what happened. 

_ “They wanted Gina and me to go with them,” Raven said, “to work on communications, but I told them hell, no, and I made sure Sinclair didn’t go either. Could you even imagine? I can’t even think about it.”  _

_ “I’m just glad we were able to find a way to keep as many people here as we could,” Monty said, “even if… even if we lost thirty in the end.”  _

_ “Are you sure Lexa’s looking for Nia? I’ll do it myself if I have to,” Octavia said fiercely.  _

Clarke sat down next to him gingerly. “Bellamy,” she said again, with more urgency. “Look at me.” 

He just shook his head. 

“I--” She was grieving, too. But-- well, she had grieved enough while he had to pick up the pieces. It was her turn to help him.

She picked up the radio and turned away. “Hey, Raven?” 

“Yeah, here.”

“Hey, could you-- could you get Gina for me?” 

A pause. “Gina?” 

“Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat. “For Bellamy. He’s… not doing well.” 

“Okay,” Raven said, and there was a pause, some static, and then.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Gina, it’s Clarke,” she said.

“Hey, Clarke.” 

“Listen, um, Bellamy’s taking this really hard,” Clarke said awkwardly, “do you… do you think you could talk to him?” 

Gina was quiet for a moment. “I’m surprised you couldn’t get through to him,” she admitted. “But okay, put him on.” 

Clarke felt even more uneasy at Gina’s confession, but she handed the radio to Bellamy, who, luckily, took it, and walked out.

* * *

When Lexa had betrayed her at Mt. Weather, Clarke made a vow to herself that if she ever saw Lexa again she would never look as  _ weak  _ as she did then. She was dangerously close to breaking that vow as she haltingly told Lexa what had happened at Mt. Weather. 

Roan and Titus were there as well, Roan’s jaw clenched, large hands flexing at his belt, reaching for a sword that Lexa wouldn’t allow him to keep while in Polis.

“She’s undermining my authority,” Lexa said in that steely voice of hers. She turned to Titus. “Has she been found yet?” 

Titus inclined his head apologetically. “No, my lady,” he admitted, “but we will find her and get justice.” 

“See to it that we do just that,” Lexa said coldly, her eyes flickering over to Roan. “I should kill you just to spite her.” 

“Don’t,” Clarke said lowly. “Roan tried to warn us. We don’t need any more senseless deaths.” 

“You forget your place, Clarke,” Lexa snarled. “I am Heda here.” 

“And I’m part of Wanhedae,” Clarke drawled. “Not to mention, part of the people who Nia  _ actually  _ attacked.” 

Without looking at Titus or Roan, Lexa commanded, “Leave us.” Titus looked like he wanted to protest, but Lexa sent him a look and he left. 

Lexa waited to speak until the echoes of the large door slamming faded. “You can’t keep doing this,” she said. “My authority is not to be undermined in front of our inferiors.” 

Clarke’s mind prickled at the word  _ ours _ . “I don’t understand,” she said. 

Lexa walked closer to Clarke, hesitantly. “If Skaikru is to be a separate Clan, you and Bellamy must swear fealty to me in front of the other Clans. But I know you do not yet trust me again, and for that, I will swear fealty to you.” She dropped to her knee and reached for Clarke’s hand, bringing it up to her face. 

Clarke’s cheeks flushed, remembering their kiss in the tent. This had an echo of that same intimacy, along with the same intensity. In the midst of war and pain, that kiss had felt like something like hope, something small and precious, until Mt. Weather, until it was blown out like a flickering candle by a gust of wind. 

“I--” she snatched her hand away, backed up a couple steps. 

Lexa, eyes vulnerable, looked up in confusion. “Clarke.”

“What are you doing,” Clarke said, voice wavering. “I don’t-- I don’t  _ understand _ you.” Slowly she was coming to understand that the Commander’s personas-- the public Heda and the private Lexa-- were so disconnected and separate from each other that when Lexa tried to speak to her as both, Clarke couldn’t comprehend it. Clarke didn’t know how she could compartmentalize such different parts of her personality together, but perhaps that was why Lexa could handle being a leader and Clarke, who walked away from her people, couldn’t. “I don’t understand any of this. What do you-- what exactly do you want with me? All of this, am I here because of political reasons or personal ones?” 

Lexa stood up, her face tight with anger and embarrassment. “Are you suggesting I am unable to separate the two?” She demanded. 

“I don’t--” Clarke shook her head. “I don’t even  _ know _ , that’s what I’m asking! Who am I to you, Lexa? One minute you’re making these condescending power plays like kidnapping my best friend in order to lure me here and the next you want me to join you for dinner. You demand fealty from me in public and yet swear your own in private. What’s your angle, here? What do you  _ want  _ from me?” 

Lexa’s hands clenched by her sides. “I want,” she said, swallowing. “I want to do more than just survive. Like you said.” 

Clarke blinked. “What?” 

“I don’t know how to do that,” Lexa admitted. “From birth I’ve been trained to ensure the survival of our people through any means necessary, and once I became Commander, the spirits of past Commanders helped me to stay on that path. The one time I deviated from the path of Commander, Costia was killed. I took that as a sign that I had angered the Commanders by giving a part of myself to one person instead of my people. I punished myself for my weakness by becoming harder, stronger, more ruthless. And I was convinced that I was right… until you. You showed me that striving to do more than surviving wasn’t foolish, but honorable.” Lexa looked at Clarke squarely, green eyes more vulnerable than Clarke had ever seen them. “I want your help. I want you.” 

Clarke felt numb. She didn’t know what to think or how to feel. Was she attracted to Lexa? Yes, of course she was. The tension between them still crackled, their energy feeding off of one another. When Lexa had kissed her, Clarke hadn’t been ready yet; Finn’s death still hanging over her, over them. She could understand why Lexa had to kill him, but hadn’t yet forgiven the other leader for it, especially since it forced Clarke’s hand into being the one who did the deed. She had asked for time, half-believing that she wouldn’t live through the Mt. Weather battle to see it through. 

And now… 

If it had been a simpler matter of just needing time to grieve Finn, perhaps Clarke would’ve been ready by now. But it wasn’t-- Lexa had betrayed her at Mt. Weather, had never truly apologized for it, had been pushing and manipulating Clarke while still implying that Clarke was her equal. Clarke knew what it meant to be someone’s equal, to work with that person, to have trust and faith. 

She didn’t have that here. 

“I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely. “I want to help you, but I don’t think I can give you what you want.” 

Lexa was still and silent for a moment. “I see,” she said finally. “And is this decision… permanent?” Last time, Clarke had asked for more time. It hadn’t been a promise, but it was promising. 

Clarke hesitated, but opened her mouth to answer--

Titus burst through the doors, already speaking before Lexa’s scowl could fully form at him. “Heda,” he said, nearly out of breath, “we have her. She’s here.” 

_ Nia.  _

The transformation from vulnerable would-be lover to commander was instantaneous: Lexa snarled, “Bring her to me.” 

Nia came strolling in, a dark, fierce looking girl by her side, her smile small and smug, like a cat who caught the canary. “Heda,” she said, inclining her head, barely. “What an honor.” As though she hadn’t been nearly dragged in. 

“You blew up Mt. Weather,” Lexa said lowly. “We have your spy, and your son has confirmed your plans. Do you deny this?” 

Nia sneered. “No,” she said. “I do not.” 

“How did you do it?” Clarke asked, ignoring the way Lexa’s eyes flickered to her in warning. 

Nia’s smirk grew wider. “I made a valuable ally,” she said. Her eyes gleamed. “Do you remember Emerson, Wanheda?” 

Clarke’s hands tightened into fists, her nails biting into her palms. Emerson had the codes to Mt. Weather, and no one had changed them, never dreaming that someone from the mountain was still alive… There were no words for Clarke’s rage then. 

Lexa, seeing that Clarke wasn’t about to speak, focused Nia’s attention back on her. “Justify yourself,” she commanded. 

“There have been rumblings,” Nia drawled, “from the Coalition that not everyone is pleased with your leadership, Heda. The fact that you’re choosing to align yourself with these,” she sniffed at Clarke, “outsiders. These invaders. I am carrying out the will of the people who wish to see Skaikru annihilated.” 

“The will of the people?” Lexa’s voice was deathly. “Who are you to decide what the people want? I am their leader!” 

“But should you be?” Nia demanded. She looked at the girl next to her. Clarke hated her on sight. 

Clarke could only watch as Lexa stiffened in shock, then anger. “How dare you,” she seethed. “I should have you killed on the spot.” 

“But you won’t,” Nia said, with a predatory grin. “There would be outrage.” 

“Then I suppose I’ll have to do it another way,” Lexa said coolly. “You must answer for your crimes against Skaikru, however. Blood must have blood.” 

“I agree,” came another voice from the doorway. Bellamy. His jaw ticked, eyes tight as he stepped into the room and came to stand next to Clarke. He looked at Nia. “Skaikru demands justice. You’ve confessed to your crime; now you must pay for it.” 

Nia looked at him as though he was a bug she might squish underfoot. “The insolence of these people,” she hissed. “Really, Heda, and you expected them to fall in line?” 

“Blood must have blood,” Bellamy said again. “And I demand yours.” 

“It seems that we are all here for the same purpose,” Nia said, and Clarke watched her warily, reminded of a large black mountain cat she had encountered once. “A fight. You want revenge,” she said, to Bellamy, “you want justice,” to Lexa, “and I want the throne.” 

Lexa snarled, “Then we shall have a fight. You and me, Nia.” 

“Oh, no,” Nia said. “My son will be my champion.” Clarke turned and sure enough, in the shadows, was Roan, face impassive, eyes alert. “And who will your champion be, Heda?” The title spat out like a curse. 

“Me,” Bellamy said firmly. “I will fight on behalf of both Skaikru and Trikru.” 

“Bellamy,  _ no _ ,” Clarke felt the words reverberate in her head like a scream, but they came out barely a whisper. 

“Blood must have blood,” Bellamy said; he sounded so tired. “I will avenge our people.” 

Clarke turned to Lexa, who was studying Bellamy. “But Nia wants--”

Lexa turned grim eyes to her. “It is done,” she said. “Let it be, Clarke. Now is not the time to be weak.” 

It felt like a slap in the face, but Nia was smirking, and the champions themselves both still as stone, neither looking anyone in the face. “If that is all…” Nia said, “I shall leave you to your preparations.” 

“Guards,” Lexa said, “Please escort the queen to her rooms.”

Lexa eyed the small, dark-haired feral girl at Nia’s side with disgust, watching her warily as she left with the queen. 

Clarke watched it all. “That’s who Nia wants on the throne,” she deduced.

“Ontari,” Lexa growled. “She does not deserve the souls of past Commanders to guide her, for she herself has no soul to speak of.” 

“Ouch,” Bellamy said, and Clarke whipped around to face him. “Clarke--”

“You’ll get yourself killed,” Clarke said lowly. “What were you  _ thinking, _ Bellamy?” 

“Come on, Clarke,” Bellamy said, “Don’t--”

“As entertaining as this spectacle is,” Lexa said coldly, “I would recommend you do it in your own rooms.” 

“Gladly,” Bellamy sneered. “And don’t think I’m doing this for you, by the way.” 

“I never thought it,” Lexa said, bored. “But you need me, Bellamy Blake, so in a way, you are.” 

Bellamy rolled his eyes, and they left Lexa’s room, Clarke feeling Lexa’s gaze boring into the back of her neck. 

* * *

“Don’t be stupid,” Clarke said lowly, the moment they were alone. Judging by the stiffening of Bellamy’s shoulders, it was the worst possible thing she could’ve said. They had been apart too long; she hadn’t fucked up this badly in ages. “You’re going to get yourself killed.” 

Bellamy turned to face her. The look on his face reminded her of when they first came to the ground. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he growled, but Clarke knew he was offended, hurt. “Really appreciate your total faith in me.” 

Clarke clenched her fists because that wasn’t the problem. There was no one she had faith in more, but faith alone wouldn’t help him win this fight. “I just-- you could be killed!”

“You’ve said that already,” Bellamy scoffed. “I’ve been training every day with Lincoln since you left-- that’s longer than we’ve been on the ground, in case you’ve forgotten. I’ll be fine.” 

“Three months of training does not equal Roan’s  _ years  _ of training!” Clarke yelled, throwing her hands up. “What happens if you lose? What about Octavia?”

“What about her?” Bellamy said, voice tinged with sadness and bitterness. “She doesn’t need me anymore.” 

Clarke felt herself growing desperate. “What about Gina? This isn’t fair to her!” 

Bellamy swallowed. “You’re right.” Clarke felt hopeful for a moment that maybe she was getting through to him-- “But it doesn’t matter. We broke up.” 

Clarke gaped. “ _ What?”  _

Bellamy shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know when we would be back. It’s already been a couple weeks. And… it just didn’t feel right. Anymore. It wasn’t fair to her.” 

Clarke looked away. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bellamy shrug. “It’s fine. It’s better this way.” 

_ It’s not, _ Clarke thought, peeking at him through her eyelashes. Bellamy deserved happiness just as much as any of them. He deserved to do more than just survive. “What about me?” She asked, quietly.

Bellamy looked at her, visibly startled. “ _ What? _ ” 

“What about me?” She asked him, voice raspy. “I can’t lose you, too.” 

Bellamy blinked, mouth open slightly in surprise, before, to Clarke’s shock, a deep, bitter scowl overtook his features. “Last time you said that to me,” he said lowly, “not a day passed before you decided to order me to my near death, after all.” 

Clarke flinched, violently, because he wasn’t wrong. 

He stalked towards her, head cocked. “And what was that you said to me?” He said, looking and sounding so much like the the Bellamy of old, the one whose words were meant to maim just as much as his actions, that Clarke found herself scowling back, tilting her chin up just like she used to, Princess Clarke of the Ark. “Before you sent me off? That you were being--” he halted, suddenly, tense shoulders dropping, eyes growing wide. “ _ Weak _ .” 

Clarke remained where she was, frozen in her fighting stance. “Yes,” she admitted, realizing where his train of thought was going. “I was.” 

_ Let it be, Clarke. Now is not the time to be weak.  _

It was as if Lexa was in the room with them, her words echoing in the air between them. 

“Is that something you heard?” He asked her, gently. “From Lexa? Is that what she told you? That keeping me from going to Mt. Weather was a sign of weakness?” 

“Not…exactly,” Clarke said, swallowing. Her chin lowered and she looked at Bellamy straight on, eyes watery. “She told me… she told me that love was weakness.” 

“And you told me to go to Mt. Weather,” he said quietly, eyes watching her intently. “And when I asked you what had changed, you told me you were being weak.” 

“Yes,” Clarke confirmed. They were going around in circles, confirming what the other already knew, but they both understood what the outright omission would cost Clarke. Every man she’d ever loved had left her. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy said, stepping towards her, hand reaching out towards her, looking pained. Clarke looked down and realized that she was shaking. 

“Bellamy--” she gasped. “I can’t-- I can’t--”

“Shhh,” Bellamy said, gathering her up in his arms. Clarke clutched the front of his jacket, trying to steady her breathing. His heart was beating quickly, too, she realized-- he was just better at hiding it. “It’s okay. I’m right here. I’ve got you.” 

_ But for how long?  _ Clarke thought, gripping him tighter. “I can’t do this without you,” she whispered. 

Bellamy huffed out a laugh. “I wasn’t doing so hot without you, either,” he admitted, trying to carefully balance honesty with resentment. It was mostly working. “Don’t… I wish…” 

_ Don’t leave me again. I wish you wouldn’t.  _

He knew she couldn’t promise either of those things, but-- “I wish you could’ve come with me,” she murmured. “I knew you couldn’t, but I wish you could.”

“Me, too,” he admitted lowly, something he had never said aloud before, only thought about in the darkest, loneliest nights. 

Clarke tucked her nose into the curve where his neck met his shoulder and breathed him in, exhaling slowly. She could feel her heartbeat start to slow, and every thought felt less frantic. He was here, with her. For now, they were safe.

For now, they were together. 


	14. Chapter 14 (+ Outlines of Chapters 15-16)

Clarke knew what they were all thinking: Bellamy didn’t stand a chance. If the power of belief, or of faith, could sway the outcome of the match, Clarke knew that on her belief alone Bellamy would win. 

But she could do nothing for him-- she couldn’t even tell him what was in her heart. Her love was a curse: her father, Wells, Finn… she had loved them, and they had died. She would be silent forever if it meant that Bellamy could live. 

With Nia’s arrival, word of Bellamy and Clarke’s presence spread throughout Polis. Two-thirds of the Wanhedae were there, with one-third fighting the Ice Queen’s banished son. Clarke, at Lexa’s insistence, remained by her side. 

“Be still, Clarke,” Lexa admonished mildly as Clarke fidgeted next to her in borrowed clothes. Clarke didn’t like them; the fit wasn’t quite right. “Don’t let them see your weakness.” 

Clarke scowled. 

Lexa’s lips quirked, just a bit. “Don’t let them see your  _ fear, _ ” she corrected. “Don’t let them see you doubt our champion.” 

Bellamy and Roan were on opposite sides of arena, warming up, and Clarke felt ill all over again. 

“You had faith in him months ago,” Lexa asked softly, “where is that faith now?” 

“I have faith in him,” Clarke insisted. “But faith alone won’t help him win.” 

“But it helps,” Lexa said, meeting Clarke’s gaze. “It helped at Mt. Weather. It helped you.” 

Clarke looked away. Sometimes Lexa was stubborn, narrow-minded, but other times she saw too much. “It won’t help me now. Nothing will until I know he’s safe.” 

“Oh, Clarke,” Lexa sighed, wistful and condescending, as the match was called to start. “None of us ever are.” 

* * *

Clarke had to admit, Bellamy  _ had  _ gotten better at fighting. She’d seen him fight before, on instinct and passion, dirty and quick and raw. She saw Lincoln’s influence in his fight with Roan, an acquired grace and cat like skill that served him well. His eyes moved as quick as his feet, anticipating and countering the majority of Roan’s strikes. Granted, Roan got a few good, hard hits in that had Clarke flinching, her fingers curled so tightly within her palms that she was surprised they didn’t draw blood. If Bellamy won-- _ when _ Bellamy won-- she would have a hell of a time patching him up. A few more of Roan’s hits, though, and he would be down, Clarke knew. Bellamy realized that as well, and it seemed that instead of looking to go on the offensive, he stayed on the defensive, biding his time, doing this for so long Clarke felt herself growing impatient with it, and she could tell Roan was, too, his movements becoming more sloppy with frustration, harder and rougher with rage. 

Bellamy’s patience paid off, though, because eventually he saw an opening and struck, leveling such a vicious, offensive strike at Roan that the spear was knocked right out of his hands. Bellamy didn’t seem to realize it, making another vicious jab that caught Roan in his thigh, and the mighty Ice Prince crumpled to the ground. 

Upon realizing what he’d done, Bellamy stopped immediately, blinking as though he’d come out of a daze. He glanced up at Clarke, whose hands were gripping each other so tightly by then that she’d lost circulation. Then he looked around the stadium, people hollering for Roan’s death. Queen Nia looked ready to spit daggers at him. 

Roan was about to reach his spear next to him when Bellamy snatched it up and took a step back as the crowd roared with approval. 

Bellamy paused, shook his head. “No,” he said, looking at Roan, at his once captor. The crowd jeered in disapproval. “When we were in the mountain,” he said, looking up at Clarke again. “We didn’t have a choice as to whether or not we killed our captives.” Roan had pulled himself into a standing position, clenched fist pressed to his thigh. “You didn’t order the attack on our people. You knew nothing about it. If blood must have blood, then it won’t be yours.” 

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” and Lexa was there as part of her duty to declare Bellamy the winner, but she was wrenching Roan’s spear out of his hand, “And who have we become,” Lexa shouted at Nia, “when we let men fight our battles for us?” She took aim before Nia could even open her mouth to reply, letting the spear fly with deadly accuracy, pinning Nia to her throne, Ontari’s howls of rage echoing above the chaos of the crowds. “Blood must have blood,” she spat into the dirt, “and you have spilled too much already, Ice Queen.” She turned to Roan, who watched her warily. She pulled his hand up in hers. “All hail King Roan!” She shouted, and the crowds roared back their approval. 

Bellamy, alarmed by this vicious display, only wanted to get the hell out of that arena before it completely dissolved into chaos. Squinting, he looked up, searching for Clarke but couldn’t find her, as she was rushing past the masses down to where he was. 

Weakness be damned, when she reached him she gripped his arms in her hands, her eyes searching his. “You’re okay?” She demanded. 

He seemed stunned. “I-- yeah, yeah, Clarke, I’m fine.” 

The crowd was pushing in on them at all sides, and Clarke took his hand. “Let’s go,” she said, and for a fleeting moment he thought that they were finally going home, but instead she led him up and away to their quarters, for once thankful for the guards outside. For the first time it felt like they were keeping people out as opposed to just keeping Bellamy and Clarke  _ in. _

No food was brought to them, and they didn’t ask for any. Clarke focused on washing Bellamy’s wounds-- his split lip, the bruises on his cheeks and ribs-- and she wished she could wipe away the misery that was so clearly visible in the way his eyes trailed over her blearily, in the way that his battered face was worn and weary.

“Go to sleep, Bell,” she murmured, giving in, carding her fingers through his damp, clean curls. “We’ll figure it out in the morning.” 

His lips quirked. “We always do,” he said. 

After he left to sleep, Clarke tried to bathe as well, standing over the shallow basin of cold water, scrubbing herself as much as she could, her mind racing. 

* * *

**OUTLINE:**

**remainder of chapter:**

  * Lexa says that someone needs to be an ambassador and make peace with the clans; Arkadia won’t last the winter without formal alliances and the other Clans won’t stand for them existing without being a part of the coalition and Clarke knows it. 
  * Reluctantly, she agrees to stay and tell Bellamy. 
  * Bellamy comes in with the radio and says they have a problem. 



**chapter fifteen:**

  * Pike is outraged by the attack on Mt Weather and the subsequent alliance with Trikru, as are the remaining people. Wants to march on Polis. 
  * Hannah and Bryan agree with Pike. Raven, Jasper, Monty, Miller, Harper, Monroe, Octavia, and Lincoln are worried and conflicted. 
  * Hannah and Monty fight; Bryan and Miller fight. 
  * Monty wants to leave and form his own home, like Circe. Miller promises him that one day they will leave. Monty is ⅓ of the Triumvirate; he deserves his own kingdom. 



**chapter sixteen:**

  * Bellamy wants to leave and Clarke tells him she has to stay.
    * Bellamy pleads with her not to stay. Their people need her. Her staying is the same as her leaving. Bellamy says she promised she wouldn’t leave him to do this alone.
  * Clarke tries to explain, Bellamy cuts her off. “You aren’t the Wanheda here. You aren’t the only one who's a part of this.” 
  * I need you // You left me (aka canon but BETTER)
  * Bellamy accuses Clarke of being afraid to come back to Arkadia; Clarke says she is, but that isn't why she's staying. When she left, she was choosing herself. By staying, she's choosing her people. And besides, she can't be afraid of coming back to Arkadia: she’d already come back once before to save him. She chose Bellamy over her fear. 
    * "You chose me once," Bellamy pleads with her. "Choose me again." 
  * Bellamy also accuses Clarke that Lexa’s gotten to her. 
    * Clarke says she hasn’t, she just knows she’s right. 
  * Bellamy, in disgust, leaves. 
    * The next morning, Clarke is outside of Polis’ gates, waiting for him.
    * Bellamy doesn’t understand.
  * Flashback to that night when Clarke tells Lexa she’s going to go. Lexa disgusted. “You can’t choose Bellamy over your people.” 
    * No, Clarke says, “i’m just choosing him over you. And I’ll choose him every time." 
    * "May we meet again," says Lexa. 
    * "Oh we will," promises Clarke. 
  * A Moment between Bellamy and Clarke? Potentially romantic? 
  * Bellamy and Clarke come back to camp together, met by the other members of the 100.
  * Their reunion is interrupted by Murphy, who comes to tell them of the Bunker.



//End 


End file.
